Hetalia: The World Origins
by Insert Stylish Pen Name
Summary: You know Germany, Italy, Japan, and the others. But what about what came before them? What about nations older than even the Roman Empire? How would their stories unfold, and, more importantly, would they be as hilarious as the hi-jinks the modern nations get up to? An attempted chronicle of world history where every country gets a chance in the spotlight (eventually).
1. The Sumerian King List

Author's Note: Alright, so the first few chapters of this work are going to be based in Sumer, the world's oldest civilization, and will be following an invaluable source of information telling us what exactly happened back then called the Sumerian King List. A few important things:

 _ **Lines like this denote actual information from the King List.**_

 _Lines like this are onomatopoeia._

This is normal text, bruh.

Historical context will be given at the end of every chapter, for those who may be confused or those who are history nerds (like me).

* * *

Chapter 1: The Sumerian King List

 _ **After the Kingship descended from Heaven, the Kingship was in Eridu. In Eridu, Alulim became king; he ruled for 8 sars. Alulim was succeeded by Alalngar; he ruled for 10 sars.**_

 _ **Then Eridu fell and the Kingship was taken to Bad-Tibira. In Bad-Tibira, En-men-lu-ana became king; he ruled for 12 sars. En-men-lu-ana was succeeded by En-men-gal-ana; he ruled for 8 sars. En-men-gal-ana was succeeded by Dumuzid, the Shepard; he ruled for 10 sars.**_

 _ **Then Bad-Tibira fell and the Kingship was taken to Larsa. In Larsa, En-sipad-zid-ana became king; he ruled for 8 sars.**_

 _ **Then Larsa fell and the Kingship was taken to Sippar. In Sippar, En-men-dur-ana became king; he ruled for 5 sars and 5 ners.**_

 _ **Then Sippar fell and the Kingship was taken to Shuruppak. In Shuruppak, Ubara-Tutu became king; he ruled for 5 sars and 1 ner.**_

 _ **Then the flood swept over.**_

"Great history lesson, old man, but what exactly are you trying to tell us?" said the obstinate young nation with the long, loose hair and beard sitting across from the ancient, patient (though at this point that patience was approaching its limits) Eridu. They were in a temple, already old in thirty-first century BC, that was dedicated to An, chief of the Sumerian gods. Near the central altar, the old city-state sighed and continued with his speech.

"The flood is over. None of the five original city-states are in any condition to take up the Kingship, so the Gods have decreed it be passed to one of you youngsters… regrettably." he explained.

"Sounds like a good deal. Unless, of course, you're giving it to my pain of a brother here," muttered the nation with his hair short and braided and well-trimmed beard to boot, standing to the right of the other, more energetic one, "Uruk couldn't be trusted with anything more than tending to his livestock; it might overload his brain."

"Hey!" the first nation, Uruk, responded, "As if you'd make a better king than me, Ur! You might be closer to the coast but my city is older, bigger, and sexier than your dump of a town." The two began to bicker like children (compared to Eridu they might as well have been, the ancient nation surmised), and it was clear their sibling rivalry surpassed all rational thought. Eridu was more concerned with the third city-state, going by the name of Kish, who stood in front of him. His hair was cut short, and his face clean-shaven. He stood with a more composed and dignified air than the other two, and Eridu could immediately tell that the Heaven's had chosen well.

"By the authority granted in me, the holy city of Eridu, by An, Ki, Enlil, and all the other Gods; I pass on the Kingship of Sumer to the city-state of Kish. May he use it wisely." declared Eridu, and a bright light briefly shone upon Kish, causing Uruk and Ur to cease their bickering and stare in awe and/or shock. The light vanished as quickly as it appeared.

"What?!" Uruk exclaimed, "That pretentious little— he can't be the next king!"

"I'm afraid Heaven's authority on this matter is final," Eridu replied, "I can only hope Kish will sustain the Kingship better than I and my old comrades have." He motioned to four other city-states at the edge of the temple, all wrapped in bandages and leaning on each other for support.

"As you can see, the Kingship is quite a burden." the ancient nation observed.

" _What the hell?!_ What kind of curse have you shoved on us, you lying old bastard!"

* * *

 _ **After the flood had swept over, and the Kingship had descended from Heaven, the Kingship was in Kish. In Kish, after 9,190 years, Etana the Shepard became king, who ascended to Heaven and consolidated all the foreign countries.**_

 _Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack…_

"Ow! Hey! What are you doing?! Stop that! OW!" yelped Uruk, under the complete and total smackage of Kish.

"I am the king. You're too independent and need to be controlled." Kish replied stonily.

 _Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack…_

"Okay, okay! I submit! Stop that! Stupid freaking kingship!"

* * *

 _ **In Kish, after 7,205 years, En-me-barage-si became king, who made the land of Elam submit.**_

"I'm so fed up with the way Kish runs things around here, bro. He's taking this kingship thing too far." Uruk whined. He was standing in the port of the city that shared his brother's name, Ur. Merchants and commoners bustled about, trading this and that back and forth and awaiting shipments of exotic materials from across the Persian Gulf.

"Whatever you say, brother. I'm on the coast, so as long as I can trade I'm fine." Ur replied, writing up trade manifests with a Harappan merchant whose ship had just arrived after the long journey from the coasts of India.

"Ugh, yeah, yeah, you and you're stupid Indian pen-pal. How do you know you're not just sending your stuff to sink in the ocean?" Uruk snarked.

"Easy, brother. I get spices. You don't." Ur motioned to several barrels of spices being unloaded from the Harappan's ship with a smirk. Uruk's expression soured, and he was about to release a witty comeback when a man crashed through their door. Tanned, muscular, and with shoulder length hair, the man leveled a short sword with Uruk's nose. Somehow he had slipped in with an army completely unnoticed.

"Uh…who might you be?" Ur inquired warily, suddenly noticing the massive force in the center of his city.

"I'm Elam, from lands east of here! I've come to take your cities and your wealth!" Elam exclaimed with a flourish of his blade, "Now surrender or suffer the consequences!"

 _CRASH!_

 _Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack…_

The door had been burst open once more, but this time by Kish, who had Elam on his knees and was repeatedly smacking him into submission.

"OW! Who—ah! Stop! I am Elam! You can't stop me—ow! Sheesh, okay, I surrender! Ow!" Elam sputtered as he slowly succumbed to the Sumerian's attacks. He made for the exit, but was stopped by Kish's hand on his shoulder.

"Weapons. Now!" The city-state demanded, and Elam reluctantly handed over his sword. He walked out the door, stopping to turn around and point at Kish accusingly.

"I won't forget this! You'll all bow down to the power of Elam soon enough! Mark my words!" With that he ran off into the highlands.

* * *

 _ **Then Kish was defeated and the Kingship was taken to Uruk.**_

"Hah, Kish! You can't hold me down anymore, not with my epic new king Gilgamesh! Who's the boss now?!" Uruk exclaimed as he faced down Kish on an open plain on the outskirts of the latter's city, a mass of troops at his back. Kish stared icily onward, and simply gave his troops the order to charge. Within seconds, the plains of Mesopotamia were engulfed in the chaos of bloody battle. Kish and Uruk were in the center of it, clashing blades.

"You think you can beat my armies? Gilgamesh has beaten Gods! You stand no chance, you stuck-up has-been!" Uruk declared between blows, slowly beating Kish back with the ferocity of his attacks. He struck Kish in the side.

"Ha! Another successful attack! Admit it, Kish, you're going to lose and the Kingship will be mine!" he proclaimed exuberantly, winning another blow to Kish's sword arm. The city-state lowered bowed to his knees in submission, cowed by the forces of Uruk.

"Yes! Victory!" Uruk exclaimed, raising his blade to the sky. He looked down at his fallen foe in confusion.

"Are you seriously going to give up the Kingship without a single word of resistance?" he taunted. Kish looked back up at his brother, eyes broiling with disappointment.

"Yes." He replied simply. Uruk shrugged and stood tall once more, the bright light from Heaven shining upon him as he took the Kingship.

"Today is a great day! Uruk is the new king of Sumer, and I'll never be beaten, ever!"

* * *

 _ **The Uruk was defeated and the Kingship was taken to Ur.**_

"Didn't you say something about never being defeated those 260 years ago when you took the Kingship from Kish, brother?" Ur said smugly as he surveyed the battlefield of his recent complete and total victory over his sibling.

"Agh! You've got some nerve, Ur! I'll get the Kinship back from you!" Uruk replied impetuously.

"Not without your precious king Gilgamesh you won't. Let the King List decree, 'And after Gilgamesh died Uruk became weak like he had always been and his brother Ur had to take the Kingship to ensure the safety of Sumer'" Ur retorted with a chuckle, "I've always been your better, brother, and now I've proved it."

"Gah! You bastard!"

* * *

 _ **Then Ur was defeated and the Kingship was taken to Elam.**_

Ur stumbled to the ground, caught off guard by the swift and well-trained forces of his eastern enemy. He rose to his feet, glaring at the man at the head of the charge.

"You arrogant fool. I'm King of Sumer, and if you think I'm giving up my land without a fight, you're wrong." Ur growled.

"Oh, I agree Sumerian. But without that scary Kish to guard you, my forces are clearly superior. Elam will take the Kingship from you Sumerian fools and make it our own! You stand no chance!" Elam taunted, and with that he charged. His attack took Ur off guard, and the city-state, unaccustomed to fighting, was quick to submit to the might of the Elamite.

"Grr…you bastard, you'll pay for this…" Ur muttered, nursing his wounds.

"As if! Without Kish to guard you, Sumer will be forgotten, and Elam will reign supreme!"

* * *

 _ **The Elam was defeated and the Kingship was taken to Kish.**_

 _CRASH_

 _Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack…_

"OW! What?! No! Agh! Stop! Get away! I thought you were gone! Ow! Why does this always happen?!" Elam cried and Kish beat him into submission, "I've only been king for 356 years! I haven't done too much damage! I'll go! I'm leaving!" With that the would-be conqueror ran back to the east from whence he came. Kish stood proudly as the bright light from the Heaven's signaled the Kingship was his once more.

"Ah, so, uh, Kish. I see you've become King again. I want to assure you that I am completely on your side and only took the Kingship to keep it out of the hands of my idiot brother until you had the strength to bear it. I hope we can be allies?" Ur said, walking up to Kish.

"Bastard! You wanted the Kingship just as much as I did, you conniving weasel!" Uruk yelled from behind him.

"The Kingship is back where it belongs. That is all that matters." Kish replied. With a swish of his leather cloak he walked off the battlefield to return to his city.

"This is just great…" Uruk muttered, "Now we're under the command of Captain Two Syllables again. I almost wish Elam were back."

"Oh, shut up." Ur snapped, "Maybe things will return to normal now that Kish is back in charge."

* * *

Alright, so there's quite a bit of historical stuff to be covered here. First off, Sumer was a Middle Eastern civilization that arose on the shores of the Persian Gulf in Mesopotamia, or modern day Iraq. Sumer, much like Classical Greece, was not so much a coherent state as it was a bunch of independent cities constantly vying for dominance. These cities were, among others: Kish, Uruk, Ur, Lagash, Adab, and Umma (who all will eventually make an appearance in this fic). The Kingship was supposedly granted by Heaven to the most powerful city-state (in other words the one who could kick the most ass). Of the five city-states that ruled before the Flood (the Sumerian version, as all ancient civilizations seem to have some sort of water-related disaster in their mythology), Eridu went on to become a major religious center, thus his ability to grant Kish the Kingship. This period where the city-states of Kish and the other fight for dominance is called the First Dynastic Period of Sumer. Elam, on the other hand, arose to the east of Sumer in what is today Iran. Elamites and Sumerians were different races, so naturally a rivalry emerged between the two (though they traded as well). Elam was also divided into city-states like Sumer, but unlike Sumer there were clear and long periods of dominance of one city over the others. This personification of Elam represents Susa, which was dominant for all of the Early Dynastic Period. Harappa is briefly mentioned; it was the first civilization to arise on the Indus River in India/Pakistan, and had established trade with the Sumerians by 2600 BCE, around the same time that the Kish-Elam War (the first recorded war in human history) occurred. Finally, those weird time periods at the beginning of the chapter, sars and ners? They're ancient Sumerian units, one sar was about 3,600 years and one ner was about 600 years, so those early (and largely mythological) kings ruled for crazy long periods of time.

That should just about cover it, feel free to correct any historical information you think is wrong in the comments!


	2. More Kings, More Lists

Chapter 2: More Kings, More Lists

 _ **Then Kish was defeated and the Kingship was taken to Hamazi.**_

Kish lay on his knees, defeated once more as the city-state of Hamazi walked off with the Kingship. Uruk and Ur stood by his side, dumbfounded.

"How did that just happen?" Ur asked incredulously. Kish slumped over dejectedly.

"Well then." Uruk mused, "I guess it's time to do what I do best!" he raced after Hamazi with his sword in hand.

* * *

 _ **Then Hamazi was defeated and the Kingship was taken to Uruk.**_

"Ah, it feels good to be king again!" Uruk exclaimed, stretching his back as he reclined in the temple at the center of his city, the largest structure in a now bustling metropolitan center. He hardly even noticed a young man approaching from the side.

"Hey." the stranger said. He had unruly, short-cut hair and a young complexion, and he carried the leather shield and bronze sword of a Sumerian warrior. Uruk eyed him warily.

"Um. Who are you? One of my adoring subjects, perhaps?" he asked. The young man sighed, slightly miffed.

"You seriously don't recognize me? I'm the city just across the bay from your brother. I've been growing in prosperity thanks to trade? I'm almost just as powerful, if not more powerful, than Ur?" he said annoyedly, looking for any sign of recognition.

"Not ringing any bells." Uruk replied, shrugging. The kid sighed again.

"It's Lagash. Look, I don't want any trouble. My king Eannatum and I just want you to acknowledge our suzerainty over you and pay us tribute." he said tiredly. motioning to a force amassed at the edge of Uruk, a powerful warrior dressed in full royal regalia and expensive golden armor at its head. Uruk jumped in surprise, looking to Lagash with newfound anger.

"What?! Look, Le Gosh, I don't know who you are but there's no way I'm giving up the Kingship to an upstart like you!" Uruk exclaimed, frantically motioning for his generals to gather their own troops.

"It's Lagash. And I'm not interested in the Kingship. I just want dominance over all of Sumer." Lagash explained. With no troops arriving, Uruk decided he had only one choice.

"No way!" he yelled, standing and brandishing his blade.

"Well, you asked for it I guess." Lagash replied, entering a fighting stance.

 _THUNK!_

Uruk lay on the floor, sword a few feet away and massive bruise decorating his head. Lagash walked away calmly.

"Idiot."

* * *

Lagash then defeated all the city-states of Sumer one by one:

Kish:

 _Smack, thunk, smack, thunk, smack, thunk, smack, smack, THUNK!_

The two nations each flew backwards, bringing up a cloud of dust. Kish held his smacking arm to his side and looked upon Lagash with grudging respect.

"You're good. You win." he said with an air of finality. He turned to walk away, but then heard Lagash shout.

"Hey! Not so fast! You're too powerful to be allowed autonomy!" Kish saw the attack coming too late.

 _THUNK!_

And Kish was annexed by Lagash.

Umma:

"Why are you attacking me!? This is my debut and you're going to make me lose some epic battle?! I see how it is! Well, I won't give up without a fight! Try me!" The small, straight-haired nation of Umma exclaimed, bringing out a spear to combat the growing forces of Lagash.

"No, you're too weak. Just give me your wheat and we'll be done with this." Lagash replied, looking on with some level of amusement.

"Fine, villain! Combat to the death it is!" Umma yelled, charging at Lagash. The stronger city-state simply pushed Umma back by the forehead as he tried in vain to break past such an impenetrable defense.

"Now, there's an easy way to this, and a hard way…" Lagash muttered threateningly. Umma slumped in defeat.

"Oh fine."

And Umma was forced to pay tribute to Lagash.

* * *

 _ **Then Uruk was defeated and the Kingship was taken to Ur.**_

"What?! How did you get the Kingship?!" Uruk cried in anger, shaking his brother by the cuffs of his cloak. Ur pushed him off with a huff, brushing himself off.

"You were defeated by that upstart Lagash and his warrior-king Eannatum. I had to take the Kingship to prevent it from falling into his slimy hands." he explained with no small degree of annoyance.

"As if! You just took advantage of my weakness to steal what was mine! I could've beaten that Lugesh kid no problem if you had just given me a chance!" Uruk retorted.

"I doubt it," Ur muttered, "but fear not, my pathetic brother. I will put that idiot in his place. There's only room in the bay for one of us, and I'm older and more experienced! He won't know what hit him." Suddenly, a shadow fell over the room and Lagash approached the unknowing Ur from behind, tapping him on the shoulder.

"Wanna bet?" he challenged. Ur jumped with a small shriek. He took a moment to regain his composure.

"Uh, I, um…You will be defeated! The glories of Ur will be extolled for generations! I am a manly man!" The two charged at each other, blades drawn, while Uruk watched on in awe/disbelief.

 _THUNK!_

Lagash walked away from the crumpled form of Ur, having easily won another battle. Uruk approached his fallen brother and poked him in the face.

"Owned."

* * *

Author's Note: Okay, so, first off you probably noticed there's no King List inscription to go with Lagash's complete and utter defeat of Uruk. This because the First Dynasty of Lagash, though well-known through other Sumerian inscriptions from the time, is completely omitted from the King List. It is said Eannatum, first king of this dynasty, conquered all of Sumer and established what was basically the world's first little empire (though Akkad, who will appear later, usually gets credit for that feat). The reason for Lagash's omission from the King List is unknown, but I like to think it was because Eannatum was a down-to-earth kind of conqueror who was more concerned with keeping his empire in line than some silly religious thing like the Kingship. But that's just my opinion.

Once again, feel free to correct any information you may find inaccurate in the comments.


	3. More Nations Show up to Ruin the Fun

Chapter 3: More Nations Show up to Ruin the Fun

 _ **Then Ur was defeated and the Kingship was taken to Adab.**_

Ur rose in triumph, having finally claimed his independence from the forces of Eannatum and Lagash. His brother, Uruk, rose slightly less triumphantly from behind him, probably still bitter about the whole Kingship thing.

"Sweet freedom! The Kingship is mine and I've driven Eannatum out of my lands!" Ur exclaimed, basking in the glory of his victory.

"A Kingship that should be mine…" Uruk muttered under his breath.

"Oh, let it go brother," Ur retorted, "As long as we stay out of Lagash's way we should have free reign over western Sumer. I might even lend you the Kingship from time to time."

"Very funny," Uruk responded, "I'll get the Kingship back from you one day, brother. Just you wait and see." Ur simply laughed his sibling off and began the trip back to his home city from the battlefields on the outskirts of Lagash, when he noticed a ragged mass of people approaching from the north. At their head, a tanned, fierce-looking Sumerian wearing a bronze helmet and carrying an equally fierce looking mace approached Ur.

"So, you're the one with the Kingship, right?" he asked. Ur eyed him with caution.

"…Yes. I take you're one of the northern states?" he replied with disdain.

"Adab. Pleasure to meet you." The new nation said, taking Ur's hand involuntarily and shaking it with too much vigor, "Unfortunately I'm afraid my forces are going to have to crush you now. Nothing personal. New king just wants to take over the world is all." Ur backed up apprehensively and drew his sword.

"I won't just lay down without a fight, you know." he growled apprehensively, attempting (but failing) to look threatening in the face of this new and brutish city-state Adab.

"Wasn't expecting you to." Adab announced candidly, tossing his mace and catching it, "Prepare to get creamed." He twirled his mace around charged, slamming into Ur with unparalleled ferocity. After a few painful minutes, Ur lay on the floor with a brand-new lump on his head. Uruk kneeled next to him with a sly grin.

"Do you ever win?" he inquired.

"How come I'm the one who has to deal with all these conquerors?" Ur whined back. Adab turned around as Heaven bathed him in its light.

"Lugal-Anne-Mundu sends his regards."

* * *

Lagash observed the conquering of Sumer by Adab and Lugal-Anne-Mundu with wariness. With a formidable new power on the rise, he couldn't afford to look weak or lose any ground, especially since his king Eannatum was getting weak in his old age. Unfortunately for him, it appeared the city-states that remained under his control didn't have the same mindset.

"Freedom for Umma! Strike down Eannatum and his dictatorship! Attack!" came the cry of war from behind him. He turned to witness Umma, brandishing a spear at him.

"I will be free!" he exclaimed, charging at his oppressor.

 _THUNK!_

Umma retreated, a new lump in his head and a higher tax on his city.

* * *

 _ **Then Adab was defeated and the Kingship was taken to Mari.**_

"Ur! Brother! I have news! Great news!" Uruk exclaimed, racing through the streets of his sibling's coastal metropolis towards the docks. Ur looked up from his work; he was reading the trade manifesto of a new Arabian import and was delegating where the various products were to be stored. This was usually a job for government officials, of course, but Ur was nothing if not a perfectionist when it came to trade.

"This had better be worth the disturbance, Uruk." he told his brother, placing the manifesto in the hands of a startled Sumerian official.

"It is! It so is! Lugal-Anne-Mundu is dead!" Uruk burst out, exuberantly pumping his fist into the air, "Adab's nothing without him, and now its open season for the Kingship!" Ur smiled devilishly in return.

"That is good news. Good news indeed." He donned his leather cloak and sword and, with his brother, traveled up the Tigris River to Adab. However, what they found there was not quite what they might have expected. When they arrived, Adab already lay defeated on the floor, and a woman with dark, flowing hair stood over him, receiving the Kingship from Heaven. Uruk froze and pointed an accusatory finger at this new character.

"What do you think you're doing?!" he yelled, clearly prepared to attack. The woman turned towards the not-so-dynamic duo. She appeared to slump in annoyance.

"Oh great, southerners." she complained to no one in particular, "Look, I've just taken the Kingship from this idiot. Sorry for the inconvenience, but he was weak and the Kingship was just right there for the taking. So, I figured I'd help myself." Ur sheathed his sword with disdain, aware that this woman must be a formidable power if she was able to defeat Adab so easily, even if Lugal-Anne-Mundu was dead.

"Might I ask your name?" he inquired.

"Mari." the woman replied, "I'm a city-state from up north. I help regulate trade between you and my older sister, Ebla." Uruk's eyes brightened at the name Ebla.

"So you're the younger sister of that stingy girl who's even more trade-obsessed than my brother, then?" he asked. Mari doubled over laughing and Ur elbowed his brother in the side.

"I am not obsessed with trade! But yes, she's that city we helped establish when Kish ruled his first dynasty. To stop Ebla from controlling all the trade, remember?" Recognition slowly dawned on Uruk's face.

"Wow! Never thought she'd take the Kingship from us, though." he muttered, "What are we going to do about this, brother?"

"Well, I would like to go to war, but with Lagash still powerful in the south-" Ur said, glancing southwards where ominously dark clouds seemed to gather around the figure of Lagash, who's icy facial expression screamed **don't mess with me** , "-I think we're just going to have to wait this one out." The dark clouds dissipated and Lagash faded from view. Uruk grunted in annoyance.

"Yeah, I guess. Makes you wish Kish were here, doesn't it?"

* * *

So, Adab is another one of those city-states who wanted to conquer the world. Lugal-Anne-Mundu, known during his reign as the "King of the Universe", successfully conquered all of Sumer. He even conquered Lagash, which was weak after the death of that other great conqueror Eannatum. However, his impeccable military leadership was impossible to replace (as is the case with most of these early empires) and his conquests quickly declared independence upon his death. Mari was city-state that, instead of developing on its own out of small towns that had formed during the Neolithic Revolution (in which humans developed agriculture and started doing the whole "civilization" thing), was constructed deliberately to control the flow of trade between Ebla (often considered the first world superpower, she's an economic powerhouse who will show up later) and the southern states of Sumer. Mari was usually situated too far north to become incredibly situated in Sumerian affairs, but Lugal-Anne-Mundu's conquests had grown to include her and so she stole the Kingship from Adab once the conqueror died. Lagash regained power as well, thanks to a new king Entemena who regained most of Eannatum's lost conquests.

Why are Mari and Ebla female, you ask? Well, I thought it'd be some nice juxtaposition for there to be a bunch of warring brothers in the south while there were two warring sisters in the north.

Also, its come to my attention that based on the relatively meager descriptions I've been giving its kind of hard to picture what these nations look like as people. Will I be updating chapters to include more detailed descriptions? HA don't be silly of course not! That's too much work for a lazy bum like me! Just search up "Sumerian Armor" on google and that will give you a general idea of what these guys wear all the time.

Feel free to leave corrections in the comments!


	4. In Which Kish Returns from Lagash

Chapter 4: In Which Kish Returns from Lagash

"Did someone request my presence?" a voice came from behind Ur and Uruk, startling them both. Ur developed something of a nervous smile, recognizing his stoic sibling, while Uruk flailed and collapsed in a heap on the ground. Kish, ignoring them both, stared upon the city of Mari with a cool, analytical gaze. There was work to be done.

"Kish! What do you know! I thought you were annexed by Lagash. How suddenly things change when you're not looking, eh?" Ur said hesitantly. Uruk righted himself and eyed Kish warily, hands raised slightly as if a fight would break out at any moment.

"How'd you even get out of there? Lagash isn't one to, you know, let city-states go free." he inquired.

"Well…" Kish began, and the air suddenly became hazy as the seams of space-time began to unravel around them.

"What the hell is going on!?" Uruk yelped.

* * *

 _Before the arrival of Adab and Lugal-Anne-Mundu…_

"Well, would you believe it, Eannatum is finally dead!" exclaimed a farmer to his local blacksmith, catching Kish's attention as he walked the streets of Lagash. The smith's shop was on the corner of road, and advertised itself as selling the best blades in Lagash. The farmer casually leaned on the display table, while the blacksmith seemed to be absorbed in the forging of a new item. Kish leaned in, hoping to catch some more the conversation.

"You would think that he would've died sooner with all that campaigning and what-not." The blacksmith looked up from his work, an intricate ceremonial blade he had been hired to make for the new king, En-anna-tum I. The blade was gold; long, double-edged and incredibly difficult to forge. The pommel was studded with gold beads, but seemed to be made of a more durable material.

"Yeah, I guess. But you have to wonder," the man thought aloud, "what will those powerful cities like Kish and Umma do now that Eannatum is dead? The new king is his brother, but he's more of a priest than a conqueror if you know what I mean." The farmer nodded, and replied. Kish stopped listening and decided to approach the blacksmith's shop. The farmer produced a few shekels for what appeared to be a new hoe, and had left by the time Kish arrived at the counter. The blacksmith eyed Kish, sizing up his new customer.

"Anything I can do for you?" he asked, noticing the bronze-enforced leather cloak Kish had on. This one was a soldier, probably wanted a weapon.

"I make swords, arrowheads, spear-tips and even the occasional mace if you've got the shekels to pay for it." he offered, showcasing a variety of weapons hung on the back wall of his shop, some forged earlier that day and others weeks ago.

"What of the blade you're making right now?" Kish asked, motioning towards the ceremonial blade that the smith was dunking into a basin of cool water, its forging complete. The blacksmith feigned surprise, looking to milk this soldier for as much as he was worth.

"It's a royal commission. I'd have to make another one if you took this one, and En-anna-tum needs it by tonight." he bartered, and in return Kish laid a satchel, weighing at least three pounds, filled to the brim with shekels on the smith's anvil. The man's eyes widened, and he decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Well, then. I'll make another one." he muttered, and he handed over the newly-forged blade to Kish. The nation left the blacksmith to his work and made haste back to his home city, an attack plan already forming in his mind.

* * *

 _Later that night…_

"I suggest you stay behind." Kish told the woman at his side, brandishing a bronze sword he had taken from the armory in the night air, "The assault will result in much bloodshed." Queen Kug-Bau eyed her city's representative with amusement, looking out over the city of Lagash. Torches dotted the buildings in the night air, and the temple in the center shone with light as the priests bustled to and fro. She shook her head in disagreement.

"I will follow the advance into the city, well behind our lines. I will be fine." she replied. Kish drew the ceremonial blade he had acquired earlier that day from within his cloak and handed it to the Queen.

"I worry still." he replied, "Take this, in case you need to defend yourself." Kug-Bau laughed.

"You should worry about yourself, fighting alongside your people like you're still as strong as your younger self." She retorted. Kish chuckled and sheathed his sword; he had heard the signal that marked the start of their attack.

"And what if I am?" he asked as he made for the front.

* * *

 _On the outskirts of Kish…_

Kish stood at the edge of his city, face to face with the very nation he had sought to escape covertly. In the darkness of the night, Lagash coul only be seen by the glittering of the gold ornamentation that decorated his armor. The sounds of battle echoed around the two of them, blades clashing and men yelling cries of war and death. The air was rank with blood and decay. Lagash sneered at the rebellious city, his sword stained with the innards of Kish's countrymen.

"You thought Eannatum's death would have made me any weaker? I'm not Ur or Uruk; I'm better than them! You can't escape my empire and you won't, ever!" he charged at Kish who, with a pained grunt, parried his foe's sword with the edge of his blade. He lunged, hoping to catch Lagash in the side, but the powerful nation was expecting such a move and feinted to the side, bringing his blade up into Kish's arm and forcing the sword from his hand. Blood splattered as a long gash opened in Kish's arm, and he yelped in pain. Lagash rose leveled his blade to Kish's nose and smiled triumphantly, believing he had won the battle.

"Face it, old man," Lagash growled, "you're not the great protector of Sumer anymore. Let the younger, more powerful nations take charge and get out of the way." he lifted his blade, prepared to end the life of the great city once and for all, when a shout came from across the field.

"Kish, catch!" yelled Kug-Bau, running into the fray and narrowly missing a stray spear thrown by Lagash's forces. She drew the ceremonial blade, her only weapon, and tossed it through the air towards Kish's open hand. Lagash looked on in shock as Kish smiled at the brazen yet welcome actions of his new Queen.

"What? What's a woman doing here? She has no place on the— _augh!_ " he yelped as Kish drove the ceremonial blade deep into his gut. He removed the weapon from Lagash's stomach and stood above his defeated foe, his injured arm of no concern. He leaned down and looked directly into Lagash's panicked brown eyes.

"She's my queen." he whispered, "I won't kill you, upstart, but it is your time that is over."

* * *

The air began to clear as space-time began to knit itself back together for the purposes of the plot. Uruk and Ur shook their heads, dizzy from the baffling and explainable event that had just occurred.

"Now," Kish declared, completely unaffected, "the Kingship. I hear Mari has taken it."

"Ah, yes." Ur replied, "She has. She defeated Adab, who was quite as powerful as Lagash." Kish turned towards the city of Mari, drawing his ceremonial blade and staring into it. After a moment he sheathed it, and made for the city.

"Then it is time to reclaim it." he said stonily, lines of troops pushing their way past Uruk and Ur and following their city towards what would inevitably be a long and hard battle.

"Dang," Uruk muttered, "Kish is back." Ur stroked his beard in contemplation and turned to the south, where he saw Lagash approaching.

 _ **Then Mari was defeated and the Kingship was taken to Kish.**_

"Indeed." he replied, and waved his erstwhile foe over to his side as the light of Heaven descended to some place in the center of Mari, most likely on Kish. Lagash warily approached, eying the older city-states apprehensively.

"So, the great empire of southern Sumer is finally ending!" Uruk joked, earning him an elbow in the stomach from his brother. Lagash huffed.

"Not so fast, older brother. I've still got sizeable territories that I'm not letting go any time soon." he replied haughtily.

"What, like Umma?" Uruk taunted, "No offense, but I think he'll have something to say about that." he motioned to behind Lagash, where none other than Umma was approaching, spear in hand.

"Freedom for Umma! Down with Lagash! HYAAAAA!" he screamed, twirling his spear in an overly showy fashion and rushing straight towards Lagash.

 _THUNK!_

"I don't think so." Lagash said, Umma crumpled on the ground before him, "Seriously man, you can't beat me. Stop trying." With that he returned to his city, defeated Umma in tow.

"That had to hurt." Uruk said, wincing sympathetically, "Anyway, now that Kish has the Kingship again, do you think things will calm down? Maybe he and Lagash will find a way to split Sumer among themselves."

"Wait, no, you'll jinx us agai—"

 _ **Then Kish was defeated and the Kingship was taken to Akshak.**_

"—n" Ur sighed in annoyance. Kish's agonized wail could be heard in the distance.

"Well, never mind then." Uruk said.

* * *

And with that we have the first ever influential female ruler of a nation. A lot earlier than you thought, huh? Kug-Bau was described as a tavern-keeper in the Sumerian King List, and was even later deified by nations across the Middle East. She got Kish's independence from Lagash, but the latter state's empire was then revived under Entemena and later independence efforts (like that of Umma, who seems to be perpetually horrible at independence wars) would fail. Shekels are Sumerian currency equivalent to one pound of wheat, I believe. Other than that, most of the stuff in here is pretty self-explanatory.

Feel free to leave corrections in the comments!


	5. A Turn of Events

Chapter 5: A Turn of Events

Kish approached the city of Akshak with a powerful force, quite prepared to take it and the Kingship back from this upstart who'd only been able to get the best of him because if his exhaustion after the battles with Lagash and Mari. Kug-Bau was no longer queen; instead, her son graced the throne. He was competent enough, but as Kish drew his blade he longed for the days of old when he could crush all of Sumer under his heel without relying on a strong leader to keep him afloat. Then the war trumpets sounded, and Kish charged into battle with his forces.

"You dare attack me in my own home?" Akshak yelled from the city outskirts, "Your glory days are long behind you, Kish! I'll do what Lagash couldn't and put you down once and for all!" Kish snorted. What was it with these younger city-states and thinking they were the best thing since the potter's wheel? He'd put this youngster in his place, take the Kingship, and bring stability back to Sumer.

"Wrong," Kish proclaimed, "you are the one here who will be crushed." With that he charged at Akshak's guard, crashing into them in an orgy of violence and death. Kish's blade was locked with that of another swordsman, in the gut of a spear-bearer, cutting the arm off of a man wielding a mace. Slowly but surely, Akshak's force were driven back into their own city. Kish faced the nation itself down in the streets of his own home. Akshak wielded his blade with prowess, but Kish could spot the mistakes in his form as they clashed blades. He was just another inexperienced city who thought he could rule the world; like Adab, Mari, and the others. Kish struck his side and he fell to the ground, defeated as easily as the elder nation had expected. Kish faced the sky as he was bathed in the light of Heaven, basking in the Kingship.

 _ **Then Akshak was defeated and the Kingship was taken to Kish.**_

* * *

"I've been under the rule of that idiot Lagash for a century now, almost an entire century!" Umma ranted, "This cannot continue! He's beaten me twice before, which only makes it all the more important I win now! I cannot and will not be contained any longer! You know what I mean?" he turned to the man across from him; his énsi, or governor. Lugal-Zage-Si looked on in amusement, and patted the frustrated nation on the back.

"Do not worry, Umma. If anyone can lead to victory against Umma, it's me." He replied with a smirk, "Lagash has been weakening steadily, and with the Kingship returned to Kish we'll be able to strike without fear of retribution from the other city-states." Umma nodded in agreement, scratching the back of his head.

"Third time's a charm, I guess." he mumbled, and the two set off to gather men for the coming battle.

* * *

"So, you're finally back in charge." came a voice from behind Kish, unnerving the nation slightly.

"Indeed." he replied, turning to see the city-state of Akkad approaching him. Akkad had been a Sumerian city originally, but a few centuries ago he had become occupied by a different people that wrote and spoke in a different language than their southern counterparts. These people would be known as Akkadians, after the city they overtook. The Sumerian city-states didn't think any less of him for it, but it was always apparent that he was different from them. The way he managed his people, the way he worshipped the gods; yes, Akkad was the odd one out of the Sumerian bunch, a northerner who was thrown in with a bunch of southern Sumerians. However, recently Kish had become close to the young nation. Akkad was headstrong, confident, and ambitious; something that reminded Kish of himself when he had first been granted the Kingship. They stood together in the temple at the center of Kish, in one of the antechambers. Kish often retired to this room to think, and Akkad was well aware of that.

"How did the other nations take it?" Akkad inquired, drawing Kish out of his thoughts.

"Well enough," he replied, "They are used to me, and I am stronger than any of them." he motioned for the royal cup-bearer, Sargon, to approach with some beer. He rushed to the kitchens to grab a few cups, and returned quickly, causing Kish to smile at his haste. Humans were constantly rushing around. Sargon handed Akkad a cup, and the nation took a short swig before looking to his elder once again.

"I hear of rumblings in Lagash's old empire." he remarked, gauging Kish's response.

"Yes, but they will only aid me in my control of Sumer." he replied, "Lagash was never humbled as I was, and has never learned the art of restraint. I will let these events unfold as they should." Akkad took in the response, and then nodded hesitantly. He handed his empty cup back to Sargon and noted he was Akkadian. He would have to have a conversation with the young man later. He turned back to Kish.

"Sometimes I think you are too slow in your actions, Kish. Perhaps if made haste, you could have all of Mesopotamia in the palm of your hand by the end of this." he said, waiting for Kish to down the last of his beer. Once finished, Kish handed his cup to Sargon and patted Akkad on the back, leading him toward's the antechamber's exit.

"Perhaps," he replied, "but it has never been my nature to overreach myself."

* * *

 _THUNK!_

Umma stood with his spear braced above his head, Lagash's sword embedded in the wood of the shaft. The two nations stood on the outskirts of Lagash, battle ragin around them as citizens of Umma fought for the third time to win their freedom. A man fell by Umma's side, dead by a spear to the stomach. He winced, but his attention was brought back to the task at hand when Lagash pressed down on his spear shaft, seething with anger.

"This is the third time you've sought to defy me, Umma! Haven't you learned the likes of you cannot defeat me!?" he yelled, pressing his sword down with more and more force until it broke the shaft in two. Umma dodged before the blade could hit him, and brought the bottom half of his former spear into Lagash's head, then driving the pointed half into his leg. Lagash grunted in pain and backed away, bringing his sword across in a wide arc to keep Umma at bay. stumbled back over the dead body at his side, but stood up quickly, removing the spear from the cadaver's gut with a wince of sympathy. He leveled it at Lagash defiantly.

"I can and I will! You may have bested me before, but I'm stronger now! I could defeat Kish if I wanted to, but I'll settle for you!" he exclaimed, bringing Lagash's anger to a head. The older nation cut the broken spear out of his own leg and tossed it down, rounding on Umma and causing the smaller city to call troops to his aid. Lagash yelled in rage when his attack was parried by a shield-bearer.

"I'm _better_ than Kish! I'm _better_ than you! I conquered all of Sumer and I've kept most of it for the past century! I. Am. BETTER!" he charged through the fray, blade slashing through the nation's supporting troops and staining the floor and himself with blood. Umma gripped his spear and met Lagash, matching him blow for blow, until he finally disarmed his foe with a well-timed move. Lagash stared at Umma's spearhead, now leveled with his throat.

"My freedom. Now!" he demanded, and Lagash finally relented.

"Fine!" he retorted impetuously, "I'll get you back! I'll get you all back!" he spat in Umma's face and gathered his troops to leave. Umma lifted his spear in jubilation, and his troops mirrored him. Now it was _his_ turn to dominate Sumer, instead of being dominated. He had this feeling that things were about to change in big ways.

* * *

"Wow, Umma, I didn't think you'd be able to conquer this much in such a short amount of time." said Uruk, patting his younger brother on the back. He surveyed the camp of the ragged troops that had beaten Lagash, and, in the past few weeks conquered both him and his brother. Lugal-Zage-Si, the leader of this rag-tag group, was at the center, leading his troops in celebration.

"I have to agree," Ur agreed, "I didn't know you had it in you, little brother." Umma smiled with confidence, realizing his time had finally arrived.

"Still, don't you think I should take over from here?" Uruk wondered, popping Umma's confidence bubble just as quick as it had grown.

"What!?" he exclaimed, "I'm the one who did all of the work here! All of southern Sumer, man! You're just going to take the reins and steal the glory for yourself?" Uruk put his hands up, attempting to placate the young nation.

"Of course not!" he quickly replied, "It's just I'm the only one of this group who actually has experience fighting Kish, and I'm in a better location."

"What do you mean better location?" Ur snarled, "I'm obviously better positioned, I'm a prosperous coastal city!"

"But I'm at what would be the center of our new empire if we conquered Sumer," Uruk retorted, "so it would make more sense for me to be the capital."

"He has a point." added Lugal-Zage-Si, having approached a few minutes earlier, "I plan to conquer all of Sumer, and Uruk would be the perfect location for a new capital."

"Really?!" Umma complained, "You're taking his side?"

"Now, now, brother." Uruk said, patting Umma on the back, "You've done well, but I think we all know who the real powerhouse is here. Third Dynasty of Uruk, coming your way!" Lugal-Zage-Si nodded in agreement, and the next morning Uruk was the new capital of his empire.

* * *

 _ **Then Kish was defeated and the Kingship was taken to Uruk.**_

"You complete idiot." Kish muttered as Heaven bathed Uruk in its light. They stood near that temple in Kish's city, the battle having been fierce. Lugal-Zage-Si was already inside, arranging the loyalty of the priests who managed the place.

"Ah, so the mighty Kish deems to grace me with his words!" Uruk replied, laughing, "Ha! Every time we meet in battle I defeat you, brother. I'll be the one that rules Sumer and brings it into a new Golden Age!"

"The Kingship is a burden, brother!" Kish exclaimed, "I take it so that you don't have to bear it! Do you not recall the broken forms of Larsa, Eridu, and Sippar? Have you learned no lessons from the scars of your defeats?" Uruk froze, taken aback by his usually tranquil older brother's tirade.

"No." he retorted, "You're just saying that to unnerve me. All you want is the Kingship, and its mine now! You had your chance, four times! It's my time!" Kish let out an angry sigh.

"You are almost as old as me, and yet you are still so naïve. What happens when a threat arrives that all Sumer could not beat, and it targets you because you are the King? How will you fare then?" he said, looking at his sibling expectantly.

"Good question, Kish." came a voice from behind the successful conqueror and his brother, "Maybe he'll get the chance to show you." Akkad walked out from the side of the temple, drawing a blade from within his cloak. It was Kish's ceremonial blade, most likely taken from his quarters. Before Uruk could react the gold was pressed against his neck. Kish stared at his former confidant in disbelief.

"What? Akkad, what is this?" he asked incredulously, searching for a blade among the fallen that were littered around the temple. Akkad smiled devilishly; he had taken the liberty of removing all the soldier's weapons as Kish and Uruk were arguing and depositing them within the temple. He laughed as Kish realized this as well.

"I'm doing what you wouldn't. My new king Sargon has confirmed my beliefs; you weren't far-reaching enough in your goals. The gods willing, we will unite all of Mesopotamia! But first, I must take the Kingship." Akkad drew his blade from the neck of Uruk, causing the nation to relax as he felt the threat had passed. However, Kish could see all too clearly what Akkad was doing.

"No!" he screamed as Akkad brought his blade forward, aiming directly for the small of Uruk's back, a firm grip on the nation's shoulder.

 _shink_

* * *

Cliffhanger! Next chapter should be published on Sunday (if anyone is even paying attention at this point, anyway).

Alright, time to address not the history, but the historical inaccuracies of this chapter. You see, information of the First Dynastic Period is incredibly minimal, so when it comes to developing the characters of these early nations there's really not much to go off of. Was Uruk really overconfident in its abilities to expand? Maybe. Did Lagash really have an inferiority complex when it came to the other Sumerian states? Maybe, but probably not. Was Kish really trying to get the Kingship just to protect all of Sumer? Maybe in the minds of some government officials, but most likely it was all just for personal gain. However, just having a bunch of greedy, backstabbing nations stabbing each other in the back when you expect them to doesn't make for good drama, so _presto_ , all these things are now true. This is fan _fiction_ after all.

To the actual history! Sumerians and Akkadians were indeed two separate races, but they didn't have an intense rivalry with one another that would typically arise in such a circumstance. It seems there was a sort of mutual respect between Sumerians and Akkadians; they knew they were different from each other, but also knew they were similar in many ways, so they made nice. That is, until Sargon. Before we get to him, though, Lugal-Zage-Si. He was probably the last great conqueror of the First Dynastic Period, and managed to bring all of Sumer into his control. He managed to consolidate his new empire and then was promptly threatened by troubles in Akkad. Sargon (who is indeed the very same man who was cup-bearer in Kish) believed the gods had granted him control over all of Mesopotamia. Things are gonna get messy in the next chapter!

Feel free to leave corrections in the comments, along with any criticism!


	6. Interlude

Chapter 6: Interlude

"And who might you be?"

The question came from behind Ebla, and startled her a little. She turned around, the clay tablets she had been checking over tumbling to the floor as her arm passed over the table. She would pick them up, but then she saw the stranger across from her. He had short hair, unlike almost every other man in Mesopotamia, and a clean-shaven face. His expression was solemn and, in the low light of the small mud-brick building they were in, looked almost as if it were carved from stone. Immediately Ebla could tell he wasn't from around here.

"I'd like to ask the same of you." she replied, "You're the one who's walked into my city and disturbed my work." The man looked a little surprised by her response, but at least he answered the question.

"My name is Kish," he said, "I'm from the southern states; the land of Sumer. I recently acquired Kingship over the region and heard of a great trading empire to the north. The people here say he's called Ebla, perhaps you've heard of him?" Ebla adopted a knowing smile and decided she was going to milk this stranger (the King of Sumer, apparently) for all the information he was worth before she told him anything.

"Oh, sure," she responded candidly, "but I've never seen a man from the southern states before. What's it like? I hear its constant war down there, with powerful kings pulling the strings behind many of the conflicts." Kish seemed to be caught off guard by her intrusive response, and it took him a while to formulate a reply. In the time that it took him, Ebla picked up the cuneiform tablets that had been scattered on the floor and re-arranged them on the table. She'd go over them later, but right now there were more important things to tend to.

"I suppose you could say that," Kish had been saying, "though recently my city has taken control over the entire region. Combat has been reduced, and I think a more peaceful era may be upon us." Ebla doubted that, but she supposed this young man could dream.

"And your city would be?" she asked, pouring some beer for them both.

"Why, Kish, of course." he replied as if it should be obvious. So, he was nation. Ebla hadn't heard of any nations called Kish appearing recently; but then again, she hadn't spoken with her contacts in Sumer in a few decades. Perhaps things had changed since Shuruppak had last visited.

"I see." she murmured, "This city, Kish, is it prosperous? Is there much trade to be done there?"

"Oh, yes." he replied, almost eagerly, "That's why I'm here. I'm hoping to create trade contacts with Ebla. If you could point me on my way to him, that would be much obliged."

"Certainly." Ebla said, "You're looking at him. Or rather, her." Ebla had to give Kish credit, he didn't look as surprised as most people did when they learned that the great trading empire of the north was a female. He did appear to be of calmer character than most, but she could still she the flash of shock in his otherwise stoic brown eyes when she told him. She handed him a cup of beer; and, after a moment, he accepted it.

"Really?" he asked after a sip, "Well, then. What would you say to creating some trade connections?"

"That depends entirely on what you have to offer." she replied, taking a drink from her own cup, "I have almost entirely everything this world has to give, so it better be good." He responded quicker than she expected to that.

"How about exotic spices from the coasts Meluhha?" he asked, raising a questioning yet confident eyebrow and sitting down at her desk.

"Never heard of Meluhha." she pondered, drawing up a chair to sit in as well, "Where is it?"

"A far-off land to the east, where the weather is warmer and it is easier to grow such things." He replied, leaning over the cuneiform tablets.

"Got any samples?" she inquired. He handed over a small bag, filled to the brim with an aromatic powder. She dipped in a finger and tasted it. Pleasant and sharp. She could work with this.

"Alright, King Kish, you've got yourself a deal. I'm going to need a location for where to send the caravans and ten shekels." she said after a moment.

"Ten shekels? What for?" he asked, confused.

"The beer," she replied cheerily, "nothing from Ebla is free."

* * *

Kish stood on the banks of the Tigris River, with his two brothers Uruk and Ur. As usual, they were arguing, but Kish had tuned them out. He could see the person he was waiting for approaching in the distance. Her black hair was braided in a ring around her head and extended down to her shoulders, and she wore the simple woolen cloak of a merchant. Behind her was a party of Akkadian construction workers, hired earlier in the day. She had something of a frown on her face, and when she arrived she began tapping her foot impatiently.

"Are we really doing this?" she asked, and Kish couldn't help but sigh. He should've known this was going to be difficult.

"Yes," he replied carefully, "Some of my fellow Sumerian states have had some problem with the prices you've charging for their goods, so we think a middle man is necessary."

"Yes indeed!" Ur joined in, "50 shekels for 35 pounds of grain! That's ridiculous! You're a tycoon, and I've had enough of it!"

"Yeah," Uruk added, "we like our money!" Ebla huffed with annoyance and glared pointedly at Kish.

"You're making me regret my decision." she muttered.

"You've already agreed to this." he retorted, "Let's just begin." Ebla motioned for workers to start, and they got to work. It took a while, almost a month, but eventually the beginnings of a city were established. Temples, houses, administrative centers; this would be the regulator of trade between the north and the south. In the city center, Kish, Ur, Uruk, and Ebla stared at the small child that stood between them.

"What should we call her now that we've built her?" Uruk pondered, "And because we built her, does that make us her parents?" Ebla feigned disgust.

"No. I'm going with older siblings," she replied, "and don't you think I'm the one who should be doing the naming, because I'm the one who'll be raising her?" Ur looked affronted.

"I'm sure we'll visit from time to time!" he retorted indignantly, "And by us I of course mean Kish. Right, brother?" Kish glared in Ur's direction, and Ebla let out a sigh.

"Deadbeats." She muttered, "Anyway, are we going to come up with a name or what?"

"How about…. Thecity!" Uruk exclaimed.

"Brother, that is just the words _the_ and _city_ put together. There is literally nothing less creative you could've said." Ur remarked. Kish kneeled down next to the child, appearing to share a few words with her. Ebla, fed up with the bickering of his siblings, decided to follow suit. The child's long, black hair flowed sown to the small of her back and covered half of her face. She was looking at Kish intently.

"What are we doing here?" Ebla asked.

"Asking the child what she wishes to be named." Kish replied simply. After a few moments, the young girl came to a decision.

"Mari!"

* * *

"Sister! Kish is here to visit!" came a voice from across the caravan. Ebla looked up from tying her horse to a tree to see Mari, now an adolescent child, running towards her. Her long black hair (she refused to cut it) flew out behind her as she approached, and Ebla could see Kish approaching at a slower pace a little further back. Mari ran into Ebla with a small thump and shook her by the shoulder's violently.

"He's got a ton of news for us!" she said exuberantly, "There's a ton of stuff going on in Sumer! He talked about battles, and warrior kings, and weird nations from the east!" Ebla smiled at her younger sister's excitement; it was rare she got this excited over something (trade being really the only thing they ever did). She looked up to Kish as he arrived. His hair was longer, almost down to his neck now, and he had some stubble on his chin. His face was still stony and calm, but he appeared to be more exhausted than usual.

"I hear you've been involved in some epic battles with strangers from the east," Ebla joked, "surely the legends of your exploits will travel far and wide!" Kish gave her and tired smile in response, and lifted Mari in the air to give her a hug.

"It's been so long since a last saw you, little one," he said, "but it appears you still can't keep that mouth of yours shut." Mari pouted, and Ebla laughed.

"Yeah, yeah," Mari replied, "but tell us, tell us! What's been happening in Sumer?" Kish smiled in response, but Ebla could tell that he was in no hurry to regale them with what had happened.

"Mari, why don't you go get some food and beer for Kish? I'm sure he's tired after his journey to our caravan out in the middle of nowhere." she said, and Mari ran off to the supply cart. Ebla sat Kish down by the fire in the center of the tents that had been set up for the evening.

"So, how bad is it?" she asked. Kish slumped, grabbing a stick and tossing it into the fire.

"Uruk took the Kingship from me." he replied, "That's why I haven't been able to visit for the past few centuries." Ebla sat down beside him.

"That one?" she said, "I'm surprised he managed to hold onto it for that long."

"He didn't." Kish explained, "Ur took it from him after a few decades, and then Ur was defeated by an eastern country by the name of Elam. I told you of him once, remember?" Ebla nodded, remembering Kish regaling her and Mari with the tale of how he beat the eastern nation into submission and took all of his weapons.

"Did he do much damage?" she asked warily. Kish shook his head.

"I managed to take the Kingship back from him after a few decades, so thankfully he couldn't do too much harm. I worry for my brothers, though. They spend so much time bickering amongst themselves, and just like that someone comes and takes advantage of it. Next time, I may not be able to keep them from harm." Ebla was going to offer some words of consolation, but just then Mari returned with the food and drinks. They began to eat, and Mari once again began to pester Kish to tell her stories of the troubles in Sumer. He obliged, exaggerating the details of the situation to satisfy the young girl's imagination, and Ebla watched on with a smile. Soon enough, however, Kish announced that it was time for him to leave. Mari gave him a back-breaking hug, while Ebla settled for a handshake.

"Don't worry," she told him, "I'm sure your brothers will come around eventually. With you there to guide them, they'll have to toughen up or die, I'm sure." Kish gave her a small smile, and turned to leave, but Ebla grabbed his arm and stopped him.

"Uh-uh," she teased, "that's ten shekels for the beer, remember?" Kish actually laughed at this, and soon enough Ebla was too. He pretended to search his cloak for money, and she only laughed harder. She gave him a hug.

"Stay safe out there." She told him.

"I'll try my best." he replied.

* * *

Ebla nearly screamed when Mari walked into her city, bloody and beaten. Her hair was choppy and uneven with blood matted in it, and she had cuts on her arms and legs. She collapsed in the courtyard, and Ebla had to carry her to the temple where she set about patching up her wounds. Eventually Mari arose from subconsciousness, only to be barraged with questions from her frantic older sister.

"Where were you? Who did this? I look away for a century and this happens! Are you okay? What even happened?!" Mari winced at her sister's onslaught, and hastily replied.

"I was just in Sumer, and—" she started, but Ebla cut her off.

"You were in _Sumer_? Why?" she asked incredulously, wrapping linen around Mari's forearm.

"I heard about some conqueror who had invaded and was taking over everything, called Adab, and I figured I'd go and see what happened." she muttered.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ebla demanded.

"I'm old enough to manage myself now!" Mari retorted, "Plus, it wasn't like I was going to get involved or anything…"

"Then how did this happen?"

"Well, I may have accidently maybe kind of beat up Adab and taken the Sumerian Kingship."

" _What!?_ "

"It's not like he was really tough or anything! His warrior king had just died and he pretty much fell after the first hit!"

"Then who did this?"

"…" Mari's expression soured. Ebla noticed and cupped her face, forcing their eyes to meet.

"Mari, who did this?" she asked gravely. After a moment, Mari responded.

"…It was Kish." she said dejectedly. Ebla let go of Mari's face, taken aback.

"What?" she asked.

"He invaded my city, and he was all serious, and he told me that I shouldn't have taken the Kingship and that I was the reason that Sumer was falling apart at the seams, and I told him that I was just trying to help him out with Adab but he said that I wasn't helping and I should just give him the Kingship and I told him that maybe he just shouldn't of lost it in the first place and then he got this scary look on his face and he started attacking and I didn't know what to do and I—" Mari rambled on and on, and Ebla had to grab her shoulders to calm her down. She was crying, Ebla noticed.

"Shh, shush, it's okay now," she said, "You're okay now. Everything's okay."

"I just don't understand why he would do that…" Mari sniffled, "He was so different, nothing like when I was little. He was just cold and scary." Ebla hugged her tight, and then released her, patting her on the shoulder and wiping her tears.

"I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt you so bad," she said, "the Kingship is very important to Kish in ways we don't really understand." Mari took in a few breaths, and nodded.

"He said he was sorry after he was done," she whispered, "and that he didn't want things to happen like that." Ebla gave her sister an herbal concoction she had whipped up using a mortar and pestle, and stood up.

"You can stay here and rest as long as you'd like." she murmured, her mind elsewhere. Why would Kish have done this? Had something happened in Sumer, something bad? Perhaps it had something to do with that Adab Mari had mentioned. Either way, Ebla was going to have a few choice words for him the next time they met. As she made to leave, Mari grabbed her arm.

"You would never do something like that to me, right?" she whispered. Ebla's expression softened.

"Of course not. I would never do anything to hurt you, Mari."

* * *

"I hate you! All you ever do is hurt me!" Mari screamed at Ebla from across the battlefield, hate etched onto every feature of her face. Ebla drew her sword and glared back, fed up with this nonsense.

"None of this is my fault, Mari. You're the one who attacked my cities. I can't allow that and you know it." her soldiers began to ready for a charge, but Ebla gave them the order to cease. No need to escalate this if it could be prevented.

"Oh, yeah right!" Mari retorted, "You just want to keep all the important cities for yourself and leave me weak, don't you? You're such a control freak! You'll never let me grow up and become powerful, will you?"

"Those cities were essential to my trade routes, Mari, and now you've blocked them off!" Ebla replied, marching across the field to her sister, "You're deliberately stifling my trade! I cannot let that stand, my empire relied on trade to survive!"

"That's all it ever is with you; trade, trade, trade!" Mari growled, drawing her blade to prevent Ebla from coming any closer, "You care a hell of a lot more about trade than you do about me! I was built to regulate trade between you and Sumer! I can turn it off if I want to!" Ebla stopped, wary of her sister's blade.

"You can't if both parties that are trading aren't satisfied with that condition." she said. Mari responded by spitting in her general direction.

"You're just unsatisfied because I'm winning this stupid war. You may have defeated me a few times, but now I have the upper hand and you're just trying to get me to quit while I'm ahead! Why can't I be an empire like you, huh? And what do you mean, 'both parties', this is just a you-and-me war, sis!" Mari ranted, but she was stopped by a voice from behind her. She turned to see Kish, in imperial Sumerian regalia, behind her with a massive army. His gold-plated robes and ceremonial blade were a marked difference from the simple leather cloak he was often seen in. Mari stood in shocked silence, taking the situation in.

"Mari, you have to stop this." Kish said carefully, "You're stifling Mesopotamian trade. If you stop now, maybe we won't have to—"

"I can't believe this!" Mari yelled, rounding on her sister, "You brought him into this!? After everything that happened!? I can't believe you! You'll just do anything to get your way, won't you. Fine! I surrender! But you sure as hell better not come visiting me anytime soon, or I swear I'll shove this blade right into your traitorous face!" Kish walked towards Mari, attempting to placate her.

"Mari, please—" he begged, but Mari shoved him away violently.

"No!" she shrieked, "Don't even get near me! Never get involved in my affairs again, either of you! I wish you'd never built my stupid city!" With that she stormed off, her forces in tow. Ebla approached Kish.

"She's become so passionate," Kish muttered, "and so filled with hate." Ebla huffed in annoyance.

"And who's fault is that?" she asked accusingly.

"Not this again." Kish groaned, "I've explained to you why I did what I did."

"And I still think you gave a piss-poor explanation." Ebla retorted, "You could've gone about that so many different ways." Kish muttered something about women and their different ways.

"I have to be able to protect my brothers." he eventually said.

"Don't you start with that!" Ebla said, poking Kish in the chest, "You know full well I'm right! You have more family than just your brothers, you know!" He looked down at her and sighed in defeat.

"I know. I know you're right," he said, "I just don't think she'll ever forgive me."

"Give her time," Ebla replied, "if you play nice she'll come around eventually." Kish looked off in the direction Mari had left.

"I just don't know if I have that much time, Ebla."

* * *

Haha, I tricked you and updated a filler chapter that's probably better than every other thing I've posted so far! I'm so evil *cries*

Well, the history here is that Mari was the first city we have record of that was actually deliberately designed and built instead of developing naturally from towns and caravans and such. The city was constructed to regulate trade between Sumer and Ebla. Ebla was a trading empire in Syria, and had close trading links with Sumer, Kish in particular. During the 24th century BC, Mari and Ebla had a war over Mari trying to take some of the cities under Ebla's influence. During it, Mari blocked off trade from Sumer to Ebla, and Ebla struck up an alliance with Kish to end the war in their favor. Oh, and Meluhha was the Sumerian name for that Indus Valley Civilization Ur trades with in India. Everything else I feel is pretty self-explanatory, but leave questions or corrections in the comments!

Akkad, Uruk, and Kish will return in the next chapter; and Ebla and Mari might make an appearance there or in the chapter after, depending on its length. Ciao!


	7. The Unthinkable

Chapter 7: The Unthinkable

The first things Uruk noticed was the taste of the ground. Or, more accurately, its tastelessness.

Then he noticed the weight on his back as someone fell on top of him; an impact that sent him right back into the ground. It was brief. The person fell off of Uruk's back and onto the ground. He righted himself to get a good look, and that's when he noticed the third thing.

The blood. Pouring out of the wound in Kish's stomach, the ceremonial dagger he had coveted so much after his return from Lagash driven deep into his gut. Uruk could trace with his eyes where it had been dragged across Kish's torso, cutting through his chest and his side and turning the proud nation's inside into mincemeat. Kish coughed, blood pouring from his mouth and onto the ground, creating a sickening mixture of dust and blood, and reddish color that seemed to pierce reality itself with its sheer wrongness. Uruk looked to Kish's face, and, for a moment, their eyes met.

"G…g…go…o…." he choked, blood obstructing his message and choking the very life out of him. And, as Uruk looked on, his elder brother's eyes faded until they were a dull crimson-brown, the same as the blood that leaked onto the ground around him. Kish was dead.

It took a moment for the panic to set in; the fear and self-preservation. When it did, Uruk stumbled to his feet blindly, crashing into the wall of the temple behind him. He looked around, eyes settling on the skyline, then the griffon statues that flanked the temple's entrance, and finally to the nation who stood in the center of the courtyard, surrounded by the bodies of fallen soldiers and Kish himself.

"No…" Uruk muttered, dazed still, "you…you're the one who…you're Akkad." The named city smiled grimly, a nightmarish light dancing in his eyes. He walked up to the corpse of Kish and yanked the ceremonial dagger from the nation's torso, splattering blood upon his visage in the process.

"Ah, Kish, you were always too protective of your brothers to achieve true greatness." he murmured in his dead mentor's ear. He wiped the blade off on his arm, and then looked to Uruk, smile now turned into a thin line of determination.

"And you," he said, "Uruk. Your brother may have earned you a few extra seconds, but I'll still be taking the Kingship from you." He flipped the dagger around in his hand, holding it close to his chest. Without warning, he rushed forward, blade catching the edge of Uruk's neck and leaving a deep gash. Uruk lurched to the side, just barely escaping death as panic overtook his mind.

"Don't come any closer!" he yelled, voice ringing out through the temple grounds. He clutched the gash in his neck, wincing in pain, and began to back away slowly. Akkad calmly walked towards him, prepared to end Uruk's life if necessary.

"Stay away!" Uruk exclaimed, backing away faster now, "I surrender! Please, just don't kill me!" He stumbled over a rock, then fell. Akkad approached, his eyes dark and lifeless. He rose his blade, but was stopped as a light shone down from the Heavens.

 _ **Then Uruk was defeated and the Kingship was taken to Akkad.**_

Akkad smiled. He chuckled, and before long he was laughing. Uruk simply stared at his attacker, mortified. After a moment, Akkad met his gaze, smiling wide.

"I didn't even have to kill you!" he remarked exuberantly, "Ha! Live, Uruk. Go, and tell your other siblings! Akkad now rules Sumer, and soon all of Mesopotamia shall be mine as well! Let them prepare for their coming defeat!" He planted his foot on Uruk's chest and pushed him away, causing the nation to stumble down the street a few meters before he righted himself. He scrambled to his feet, eyeing Akkad one last time, and then the body of his brother back at the temple. Then he ran.

* * *

Ur stood among barrels of spices and grain, in one of the many storehouses of his city. He was supposed to be compiling a record of the items present (the incompetent scribe assigned to the job having assigned numbers that were _far_ too small to be possible), but he was distracted. Something was bothering that he couldn't quite place, and he just couldn't focus. He started to count the barrels, attempting to ignore it. _One, two, three…four…six…wait, no, five. Or six?_

"Argh!" he huffed in frustration, "I can't work like this!" he placed down the tablet he had been writing on, knowing full well it would dry up and become useless if he left now. But he simply could not work. He walked out of the storeroom, and ran into an unexpected visitor.

"Lagash?" he asked suspiciously, eyeing the younger nation and his simple woolen cloak, "To what do I owe the displeasure?" Lagash's eyes flashed in annoyance, but he remained composed.

"I'm here to establish a trading envoy." he muttered resignedly. Ur nearly laughed.

"A trading envoy? Where do you think you are, Umma? You know I'm no friend of you, Lagash." he replied, barely containing his amusement. Lagash pouted, and crossed his arms.

"I'm well aware of that, yes." he acknowledged, "However, now that Uruk and Lugal-Zage-Si have control over the both of us and my empire is, for the moment, disbanded; I figured we might as well make nice and compile our wealth. Perhaps, within a decade or two, we'll have accumulated enough power to break free of your brother's yoke."

"Yeah! We could, become, like, the Sumerian League or something!" came a voice from behind Lagash. Umma stepped out from behind his brother and gave Ur a hearty shove in the chest. Umma's long hair was now tied in braid's down his back, giving him a somewhat more regal appearance, while Lagash's was still short and scruffy as always. Ur stroked his short beard, contemplating their proposal. He didn't trust Lagash very much. Honestly he didn't trust Lagash at all. But he was fairly sure the benefits of this would outweigh the risks, and Umma would be a nice balancing factor.

"I suppose we could start forging friendlier relations," he finally answered, "but no leagues, Umma. That shouldn't even be discussed for at least another millennium." Lagash smiled and Umma pumped his fist excitedly. Ur motioned for them to follow him towards the administrative center of his city, when he was intercepted by his brother. Bleeding profusely from the neck and with his royal regalia torn up and a panicky look in his eyes, Uruk did nothing if not kill the mood.

"Brother, what happened?" Ur inquired levelly, slight concern showing on his face, "You look as if though were attacked." Uruk grasped onto Ur's arm, and the latter nation noticed his brother was shaking severely. They locked eyes, and Ur saw in them fear and loss so raw he couldn't help but step back. Umma, reading the situation, reached forward to help steady Uruk.

"Calm down," he whispered, "just tell us what happened." Uruk took a few deep breaths while Lagash motioned for a nearby citizen to get a priest. Then he looked Ur directly in the eyes and replied:

"Akkad." Ur started back at his brother, confused.

"Pardon?" he said, "You mean that strange little city-state that began to hang around Kish during his fourth dynasty?" Uruk nodded, grasping onto Umma's shoulder for support.

"He attacked me, in the center of my own city. I barely escaped with my life. He's got complete control over it now." He breathed, voice barely a whisper. Ur shared a surprised glance with Umma.

"Surely not," he retorted, "What of Lugal-Zage-Si and his forces? Did they simply lay down and let the city be taken? I can't believe he would let his empire fall apart so easily." Lagash returned with a priest, who began to lead Uruk towards the temple, but Uruk shook him off. He surveyed the three nations before him and took a moment to reply.

"They're all dead." he finally answered, "Slaughtered by Akkad. He wants to build an empire, even larger than Lugal-Zage-Si's. He plans on taking over all of Mesopotamia." Lagash's eyes widened at this.

"We must alert Kish." he decided, "As much as I hate to admit it, he's the only one who could strike down a threat so powerful." Ur nodded.

"I agree," he replied, looking to say more. However, he noticed his brother shaking out the corner of his eye. Was Uruk laughing?

"Brother, what is it?" he asked, concerned. When Uruk looked up, there were tears in his eyes.

"Kish is dead, brothers." he choked out, "Murdered by Akkad with his very own blade. I could only stand by and watch." Lagash looked almost offended by this information.

"What do you mean, dead?" he demanded, "We are nations! We are immortal!" Ur went to aid Uruk and looked back at Lagash with a seriousness in his eyes.

"Not necessarily," he replied, "Eridu, Sippar, and Shuruppak faded and died years ago. However, I have never heard of a nation being murdered. Are you sure he wasn't just gravely wounded, brother?" he turned to Uruk, gently patting him on the back.

"I watched the life leave his eyes." he whispered. Lagash growled, unbelieving.

"Say what you will, Uruk, but I refuse to believe Kish is dead." he stated, "I'm going to confront this Akkad. He says he'll conquer all of Mesopotamia? Ha! I'd like to see him try! And when I retake Uruk's city from him, I'll walk out with Kish myself!" With that he stormed away towards the city limits, no doubt ready to amass an army to combat Akkad's forces. Ur watched his departure, and then turned back to the priest, who had been standing by.

"Take him to the temple and tend to his wounds. Make sure he doesn't lose any more blood." he ordered, then turning to Umma, "We should accompany Lagash. Whether Kish is dead or not, this Akkad was strong enough to steal the Kingship from my brother and kill Lugal-Zage-Si. We must assume the worst." Umma nodded in agreement, and together the two set off to amass an army, determined to face the approaching threat head on.

* * *

Lagash staggered to his feet, blood dripping down his face from a cut in his forehead. He hefted his shield, feeling nearly too heavy to manage, but he kept it up. He looked around on the ground for his blade, eyes passing over many a dead soldier. He finally found it, buried in the ground next to a bloodied corpse. As Lagash reached to pick it up, he glanced at the cadaver's visage and nearly stumbled over. It was Umma. Blood poured out of a puncture in his chest and his braided hair was now undone and matted. His eyes were lifeless. Could it be, that after all they'd been through, Umma was dead?

 _No!_ Lagash thought, mind pushing back against the inevitable, _He's just unconscious, that's all. Nations don't die! He can't be dead!_ Lagash ripped his gaze away from Umma, searching the battlefield for some sort of sign of where the enemy was. He was soon alerted of it by a pained grunt to his left. He whirled around to see Akkad and Ur engaged in a struggle, their armies duking it out around them. Ur's bronze blade flashed in the twilight air, sparking against Akkad's as they sparred. It was clear that Ur was exhausted, and it wasn't long before Akkad was pushing him back into his own forces.

"Surrender!" Lagash could hear Akkad yell from across the field, "My empire will not be stopped by your forces! I will rule all of Sumer!" Ur grunted in response, having difficulty deflecting all of Akkad's attacks. He finally shoved the stronger nation away, and spat in his face.

"Better men than you have tried and failed." he growled, swiping his blade and glancing a hit off of Akkad's gold-plated leather cloak.

"That depends on your definition of better." Akkad retorted, bringing his blade down hard and throwing Ur's sword from his hand. He stabbed Ur in the leg, causing the nation to buckle to his knees. Withdrawing his blade, he stared at Ur in contempt.

"Surrender," he demanded, "and your life will be spared." Ur glared up at Akkad in defiance, but the question was answered for him.

"Never!" screamed Lagash, racing across the field in a desperate charge and slamming his shield into Akkad with all his might. The two toppled into the blood and gore, grappling with each other, weapons discarded. Eventually Akkad ended up on top.

"Fool!" he exclaimed, "Don't you see what I'm doing? All of Mesopotamia will be united! I will usher in a new era of peace and prosperity for our people! All you need do is surrender, and this carnage can end!" Lagash struggled defiantly, throwing Akkad off of him and leaping upon his foe, pummeling him with his fists.

"Liar! You lie!" he yelled, "All you want is absolute power! You won't stop until you've disposed of every other nation in your way!" Akkad took the blows, raising his forearms to block the assault, and threw Lagash off of him with a well-timed kick. He took a mace from the ground and walked over to Lagash, raising the weapon over his head slowly and deliberately.

"Maybe you're right," he sneered, "but you won't be around to see if you are." he brought the blunted weapon down with a sickening thump, then rose it and brought it down again. Lagash's screams rang out across the battlefield, and his profile was mangled by the brutal attacks. Akkad raised the mace for a fourth time, but Ur intervened, grabbing his arm and holding it back.

"Stop! For the love of Ishtar, stop!" he yelped, "We surrender! You win! Just don't kill another one of my brothers, please!" Akkad lowered the mace and dropped it to the ground, staring at Lagash with contempt.

"Fine." he spat, "But I doubt he'll live through the night." He grabbed Ur's arm roughly and dragged him off.

"You come with me," he ordered, "there is much to do." They left Lagash's crumpled form on the battlefield, the carrion birds circling above him as they waited for him to die.

* * *

Uruk woke with a start in his cot in the temple, hearing a noise from the building's entrance. He winced as the linen bandages chafed against his skin, but ignored it as he went to investigate. What he found was nothing short of nightmarish.

Lagash stumbled into the temple, face bloodied and broken, armor torn to shreds and left arm hanging limp at his side. Uruk caught him as he fell towards the ground, and priests soon swarmed him, attempting to deal with Lagash's many wounds. Uruk looked at Lagash's face, and could see he was still awake. He stared him in the eye, desperate for answers.

"What happened?" he demanded, "Lagash, what happened?" Lagash took in wet, bloody breath before responding, his voice broken and warped.

"We lost…" he whispered, "Ishtar, they're all dead. _Dead_ , oh An, _dead_ …" he began to weep, tears mixing with the blood on his face. He crumpled to the floor, and the priests carried him away. Uruk fell to his knees, staring at the puddle of blood where Lagash had arrived. He remained there for the rest of the night.

* * *

The formation of the Akkadian Empire marked the end of the First Dynastic Period, and the beginning of a period of centralized rule in Sumer and Mesopotamia. No longer did individual city-states vie for power with each other, instead all was regulated by the central Akkadian government. The power of Kish was essentially broken, along with other city-states such as Umma, Adab, and Akshak that had been influential during the previous few centuries. Sargon of Akkad conquered all of Sumer, but never made it to Syria to conquer all of Mesopotamia like he wished. However, one of his successors would seek to achieve this goal. The conquests of Naram-Sin will be discussed in the next chapter.

I like the idea of nations thinking they are completely and totally immortal until death smacks them in the face. Once we get far enough in, I'll be sure to revisit it, so be prepared for deaths galore =).

I should be able to update tomorrow. Hasta la vista!


	8. The First True Empire

So, I've realized that in my haste to post all these chapters I've neglected to provide my dear readers with proper dates! So, for the major events that have occurred, the dates are as follows:

Kish gains the Kingship for the first time: around 2900 BC

Reign of Gilgamesh in Uruk: around 2600 BC

Elamite Dynasty in Sumer: around 2500 BC

Reign of Eannatum in Lagash: around 2400 BC

Reign of Lugal-Anne-Mundu in Adab: around 2450 BC

Reign of Kug-Bau in Kish: around the later 2400s BC

The Mari-Ebla War: 2300s BC

Reign of Lugal-Zage-Si in Umma and Uruk: c. 2296 BC-2271 BC

Reign of Sargon in Akkad: c. 2270 BC-2215 BC

I will endeavor to no place a year of occurrence at the beginning of every chapter.

* * *

Chapter 8: The First True Empire

c. 2190 BC

The city of Uruk was dead quiet.

The streets, normally bustling with farmers, laborers, and merchants going about their business, were now empty and silent in the night air. Nary a light shined from a window, and the air was still. It was almost suffocating.

"Things have changed so much since I was last here…" Uruk remarked, walking down the abandoned road to the central temple. Lagash, walking by his side, grunted disapprovingly.

"Maybe that's because we're sneaking around in the middle of the night, don't you think?" he muttered sardonically, earning a glare from Uruk. However, Uruk's gaze immediately softened (as he was finding it now often did) when he took in the state of his brother. Lagash had been one of the strongest among them, proud and nearly unbeatable in battle. Now he walked with a limp, his left arm hanging in a sling across his chest. His hair, once short and choppy, had been allowed to grow long and ragged, obscuring the most significant change to his person: his face. Akkad had certainly done his work well. Lagash's visage was nearly unrecognizable from his formerly youthful appearance; scars cut across his face, seemingly at random, intercepting his eyes, mouth, and nose at strange angles. His right ear was nothing but a stump on the side of his head, and a wide scar came out of the side of his mouth and continued up to that stump where his cheek had been torn open. Lagash caught Uruk staring, and glared in return.

"I don't need your pity." he growled, "This is nothing. Once I'm healed up, we'll take the fight to Akkad and end this accursed empire, maybe even save Ur if he hasn't been killed yet. Sargon is dead. He'll be weak. All we need do is strike." Uruk let out a sympathetic breath. He doubted Akkad would be as easy to fell as Adab, or even Lagash himself after Eannatum had died. He was about to communicate his concerns when he heard footsteps; approaching from behind. He grabbed Lagash and rushed him into a nearby (and thankfully empty) building, hiding behind the door frame. Lagash took a peek out the window for a split-second and then ducked down, mouthing the words 'Akkadian patrol' to Uruk. They waited until the footsteps faded and the night was silent again, and then emerged from their refuge.

"Akkad obviously wants to keep a strong grip on your city." Lagash noted, continuing down the path towards the temple at an accelerated pace.

"Yes," Uruk replied, "which is why we must take it from him. Once we rule our cities again our injuries will heal properly and our strength will be restored." Lagash nodded in agreement, and before long the temple was within their sight. They entered the courtyard, Uruk watching the entrance to make sure no priests or guards were awake. Lagash surveyed the courtyard, eyes wandering until they eventually stopped on a corpse that lay in its center. A familiar corpse. He boiled with anger and defeat at the same time.

"So it is true," he whispered, "Kish is dead." Uruk turned, saw the corpse, and nodded, his gaze darkening. He kneeled by the cadaver of his elder brother and caressed his face, not speaking a word. Lagash stood by, uncomfortably. He hadn't wanted to believe it until now. He wanted to believe that out of all of them, maybe Kish could have survived. And if he had, maybe Umma had too. But now he knew, and had really known all along, that his hope had been in vain. Sumer's champion was dead, replaced by a dictator.

"We should administer the proper rites in the temple." he finally said, "It's only right." Uruk nodded, tenderly lifting Kish's corpse and reverently taking it into the temple. They pushed the central altar aside, moving the great stone from its place in the center of the room and revealing the dry earth beneath it. Uruk went to work, digging into the ground with vigor and force, while Lagash tended to Kish's body. He changed him out of his bloodied armor and into royal linens, cleaning his face of blood and grime. Once he was done, Kish could have been sleeping. If only he was. Together, Uruk and Lagash lowered the body of their brother into the newly dug grave, and administered his final rights, giving up his soul to Ereshkigal and the world beneath. No words were spoken. None were needed.

* * *

Akkad stood in a small room deep within his administrative center, where but a single porthole provided light for him to see the map laid out before him; a map of the known world. There was his domain, at the base of the Tigris and the Euphrates and the Persian Gulf. To the east, in the mountains, were barbaric nomads and that Elam fool he had conquered a few years back. Even further in that direction was the mysterious land of Meluhha, but it was of no concern to him. To the west was Egypt, possible future conquest but too far for Akkad to handle now with the insurrectionist movements that had spawned after Sargon's death. Rimush had proven incapable of handling such issues, and Manishtushu seemed just as incompetent. Ah, how Akkad longed for the impassioned rule of Sargon. He turned back to the map, clearing his head of these thoughts, and began to look north towards Syria when he heard a knock upon the door.

"Enter." he ordered curtly, and saw Ur enter out of the corner of his eye. The nation patiently waited for Akkad to take the heavy clay tablet the map was carved upon and place it aside, turning to look at his subordinate after a few seconds.

"Speak." he commanded, and Ur obliged.

"Manishtushu has been assassinated." he said quickly, and Akkad cursed.

"Is there a successor in place?" he asked, pacing the length of the room.

"Yes," Ur replied, "Naram-Sin, grandson of Sargon." Akkad stopped, nodding.

"That's good." he muttered, "That is very good. Send him to me once he has been crowned. We have much to discuss." Ur nodded hesitantly.

"Shouldn't you be more worried about the chaos that will arise in the wake of Manishtushu's death? Uruk or Lagash may seek to take advantage of this opportunity to challenge you rule." he remarked. Akkad turned to Ur, a dangerous glint in his eye.

"Are you suggesting that, only three kings after Sargon, my empire is already growing weak?" he growled venomously. Ur was unperturbed.

"It may very well be." he spat back, "You would do well not to underestimate my brothers." The two of them stood across from each other, glaring. Eventually, Akkad looked away.

"I am sure Naram-Sin will prove capable." he said decisively, "He has Sargon's blood running in his veins, after all." He rounded on Ur, staring pointedly into his eyes.

"I have a vision, Ur," he muttered, "and it transcends the abilities and powers of you and your brothers. Mesopotamia will be mine, the gods have decreed it. Soon, you will see I am right. And when you do, you will join me." With that he exited the room, leaving a disturbed Ur to stand among the clay tablets.

* * *

"Have you heard, Uruk?" Lagash said, approaching his brother as he returned from his trip into Ur, "Manishtushu is dead. Assassinated by his own court." Uruk perked up, a curious gleam in his eye.

"Maybe we could take advantage of the chaos that follows, try to win our cities back." he proposed, "We were chased out of my city by the Akkadian guard last time after our visit to the temple, but they could be diverted to the capital while the new king struggles to assert his authority." Lagash shook his head dejectedly.

"Even if we could, and I doubt it, the new king would never allow us to keep our lands." he grumbled, "Naram-Sin is the grandson of Sargon. I hear once he solidifies his control over Sumer, he's going to lead campaigns into the north to truly capture all of Mesopotamia. Unless he is a complete fool, he knows he can keep us in check." Uruk cursed, and Lagash climbed onto the cart that his brother had been guarding with measured effort. Uruk noticed and grew concerned.

"Your arm, is it bothering you?" he asked, reaching in the back of the cart for some herbs. Lagash waved him off.

"I'm fine, I'm fine;" he said, "weren't you listening, though? Naram-Sin's going north. I don't doubt Mari will be his next target, and after that maybe even Ebla. They'll be nothing but bugs under Akkad's heel with the way they've been fighting each other." Uruk paused, and then stood up suddenly.

"I have to warn them." he decided, seemingly on the spot. Lagash looked up at him incredulously.

"Are you kidding?" he asked, "How are you even going to get to them?" Uruk sat back down, urging on the donkey tethered to the front of the cart.

"If we get going now, we can get past Akkad before Naram-Sin has time to organize his forces." he explained, "Mari and Ebla don't deserve to suffer the same fate we did. Kish…he cared about them, I know it. He wouldn't want them to have to go through this." Lagash stared at his brother a moment longer before shrugging and smiling, accepting the situation.

"What the heck," he replied, "Might as well, we've got nothing better to do." They started north, ready to warn Ebla and Mari of the incoming danger.

* * *

Ebla was managing the payment of a few Egyptian merchants when she heard the commotion and one of the many entrances to her city. Curious, she rushed the payment of the Egyptians (probably underpaying them, but what the hell) and made her way to the entrance, where she was met with a cart pulled by a donkey that looked like it had been driven for a week straight. In the cart was some sort of hermit, his arm in a sling and his hair matted. Behind the hermit was a more civilized looking man, hair cut at the shoulders and done in braids, some of which had unraveled. He also had a long and scraggly beard, a strange contrast to his more controlled haircut. Both the men looked exhausted, but upon seeing Ebla the second one began to wave her over urgently. Warily, she obliged.

"Ebla!" the second man exclaimed, "Thank An we've found you! We have to warn you about the attack!" Ebla stared at him, utterly confused.

"Attack?" she asked, "What attack? And how do you know me? Who are you?" The man briefly became confused as well, before he began to laugh, albeit nervously.

"Oh! Sorry," he replied, "I guess I look a little different from the last time we met. It's me, Uruk!" Ebla approached him and observed him skeptically. It was Uruk, alright. Just…more worn, she thought. Maybe even more mature.

"Who is your companion?" she asked, motioning to the hermit.

"You've never met him," Uruk explained, "he's Lagash, my younger brother." Lagash gave a half-hearted wave, and Ebla decided he was unimportant to this particular dealing. Uruk seemed to be the one with the information and the willingness to share it.

"You said something about an attack." she demanded, turning to Uruk, "What do you mean?" Uruk's expression grew solemn, and he explained the situation to her as quickly as he could.

"A few decades ago, a city-state called Akkad took control over all of Sumer. He recently acquired a new ruler, Naram-Sin, and we caught wind that he's going to be leading campaigns north. Akkad crushed all of Sumer when he struck us. If you don't work with Mari to repel his forces, you don't stand a chance." Ebla took this information in, and decided to probe for more.

"Mari is south of here," she remarked, "Surely you've already visited her. I'm going to guess she wasn't open to the whole alliance idea?" Uruk's shoulders sagged, and Ebla had her answer.

"No," he admitted, "but we thought we'd warn you anyway. Maybe you can convince her to change her mind." Ebla shook her head.

"I doubt it," she said, "but what about Kish?" Uruk seemed taken aback by the question, and Ebla decided to push further, curious.

"Surely he's the one who sent you to warn us?" she asked, "I haven't seen him in decades, but I know that he would want to aid Mari and I against this threat, this Akkad. Where is he?" Uruk was silent for a moment, and when he answered, Ebla could hardly hear him. But she did hear him.

"Kish was murdered by Akkad during his rise to power. I'm sorry." he whispered, and only then did the true gravity of the situation hit Ebla. This Akkad, whoever he was, had killed Kish. The Kish who had defeated nations to defend his brothers. The Kish who would do anything, _anything_ to make sure Sumer was a safe place for his family. Kish, whom she had loved as a friend, and, dare she even think it, something even more than that. The world seemed to tunnel in to just her and Uruk, and when she looked back into his eyes she knew it for a fact.

Kish was dead.

Her spirits plummeted, but she felt her heart harden with a steely resolve. She would face this Akkad and she would crush him. She would make him feel pain in ways he could never even imagine. She was a trading empire, but Ishtar willing she would, just this once, become a military power strong enough to defeat this faceless menace. For Mari. For Kish. She brushed past Uruk, preparing to make a call to arms. She turned back towards the cart, and shared a last solemn glance with Uruk.

"Thank you." she told him.

* * *

Mari sat near a lake, miles away from her city, and thought. Uruk had left a few days ago, and by his warning Akkad's forces would be approaching any minute now. She should go back to her city; she should face him. She should, but she was just too much of a mess to deal with that right now. Uruk had told her that allying with Ebla was her only chance of victory. Yeah, right. What kind of victory would that be? Ebla had betrayed her, gone behind her back with _Kish_ of all people to stifle her growth. What kind of older sister did that? She hated her, hated her so much. Just thinking about made her blood boil.

"Argh!" she screamed, picking up a stone and throwing it across the plains. She took a few deep breaths, sinking back towards the ground. She hated her sister. So then why did part of her so desperately want to make amends? Ebla had betrayed _her._ She had done nothing wrong here! Ebla deserved to get crushed by Akkad, to be humiliated in the same way that she had humiliated Mari. She didn't care about, Mari, so Mari shouldn't give a damn about her! But, at the same time, Mari couldn't help but recall all the time she had spent with her older sister. _Good_ times. When they would go off with the trading caravans to visit Egypt, or see Canaan. When Kish would visit, and they would exchange stories around a campfire into the late hours of the night. There was so much she had loved about her sister back then. Love that was now being forced to compete with hate. And Mari just couldn't decide which one she wanted. Maybe she should just sit this one out. Maybe Ebla would win, and Mari could just deal with this after the whole Akkad thing was resolved. Maybe—

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by clangs of metal and the screams of fighting men. She whirled around, and in the distance she could see a mass of warriors fighting near the edges of her city. Had Akkad arrived? Then why was there fighting? Mari's troops hadn't prepared for battle, she'd decided she wasn't going to fight. Then who was fighting Akkad?

 _Fine, then! We warned you Mari! Come on, Lagash, maybe we'll have better luck with Ebla._

Uruk had gone to warn Ebla. Could it be? Had Ebla… had Ebla really come to her aid? Mari started towards the battle, soon breaking into sprint. Her sister had come to help her. She really cared, she really did! If they could win this battle together, maybe they could finally go back to the way things were. Maybe then they could convince Kish to come back from his stupid Kingship thing in Sumer, and then maybe they could all be together again, like a family, like they _should_ be. Maybe—

"You embarrass yourself, woman!" came a voice from the fray, piercing through Mari's jumbled hopes like a blade through skin. She turned towards it, seeing a man with shoulder-length braided hair and short blade locked in combat with her sister. An, Ebla looked horrible. She was cut up all over, and her usually braided hair had come undone, matted with blood and clinging to her face. The man seemed to have the advantage, and Mari froze as he yelled:

"I'll kill you, you know! If you don't surrender, I'll have no choice! I will have all of Mesopotamia! The gods are on my side!" he struck Ebla's blade with incredible force, driving her back. Ebla clutched her sword arm in pain, and glared at her attacker with nothing short of pure hate.

"You delusional freak!" she screamed, "You really think the gods would want this? You slaughter everyone, for what? So you can control the world? What's the world worth if you've left no one in it!" The man approached her slowly, bringing his blade to his side.

"You fail to see the bigger picture," he growled, "Single rule will create peace and prosperity in Mesopotamia as there never has been before! If you would just surrender, there would be no need for this!"

"Never, murderer!" Ebla spat, "You've killed Kish, and I refuse to take the side of a cold-blooded killer!" she rushed the man and their blades clashed, sparking off each other. Despite Ebla's efforts, it was clear the man had the advantage. Soon he had disarmed her, and was holding her by the throat.

"Now," he demanded, "Surrender to the forces of Naram-Sin and Akkad." Ebla smiled.

"I'd need ten shekels for that." The man yelled in frustration and brought his blade across Ebla's throat, unleashing a torrent of blood that stained his face and armor. She collapsed to the ground, and only then did Mari's brain begin to process everything that had just occurred.

Kish was dead. And his killer had just slit her sister's throat.

" _No!_ " she shrieked, voice ringing out across the battlefield. She rushed the man, shoving him down and away from the crumpled form of Ebla. She grabbed her sister's face, searching it desperately for some sign of life, for some sign of Ebla, for some sign that there was still a chance things could end up okay.

There was nothing. Ebla's eyes were dark and lifeless.

" _No_ …" Mari croaked, tears streaming down her face, "No, no no no no, please, no…" This couldn't be happening. _This couldn't be happening_. Ebla couldn't be dead. Not when Mari had never gotten a chance to tell her that she was forgiven. Not when the last words they had ever shared were ones that shouldn't have been said. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. It couldn't be, it just _couldn't_ —

Mari felt the cold sting of bronze on her neck.

"Another one?" came the voice of her sister's murderer, "I'd ask your name, but I'm in no mood for pleasantries." Mari's pulse quickened and the blade stilled, anticipating the one motion that would end her life, but it never came.

"Please, Akkad, stop!" came another voice, this one softer and kinder, "You don't need to kill her! The battle is won!" After a few seconds, the blade was removed from Mari's throat.

"Fine." Akkad replied, venom apparent, "But I won't leave her a city to oppose me from." He gave some orders to his men, but Mari could hardly hear over the ringing in her ears. A bright light appeared in the peripherals of her vision. At first she ignored it. But eventually she realized that they had set her city ablaze.

She sat on the battlefield as her world burned to ashes.

* * *

Haha, more death and sadness! This officially concludes the first arc that will occur in Sumer, and for the next few chapters we'll be breaking away to explore other things that happened while Sumer witnessed the formation of the Akkadian Empire, like pyramid construction in Egypt and fancy plumbing in the Indus Valley!

As for the history, its pretty self-explanatory. After Sargon died, Rimush and Manishtushu proved to be ineffective rulers who were (both!) assassinated. However, when Naram-Sin came to power he revived the Akkadian war machine and forged northward, conquering the great Eblaite trading empire and destroying both the cities of Ebla and Mari. For now, the Akkadian Empire is at its strongest and no one dares oppose their rule.

Finally, I'd like to give a shout out to runedragen33, who provided me with my first and only (so far) review! Thanks so much for the encouragement, I'm glad someone is enjoying what I'm doing and honestly that's the kind of stuff that keeps me writing. Thanks!

New arc will begin either tomorrow or the next day, depending on my schedule. Till then!


	9. An Era on the Nile

Terribly sorry for the lack of updates in the past few days! The internet in my area was down for a day, and the creative juices were a bit spent after a week of daily posting. I'm almost done with the chapter following this one, and will try to get it out today as well to make up for the lack of updates, as well as another chapter tomorrow. However, after that I will be updating every two days instead of daily like I have been, just to make things a little easier on me and hopefully a little more consistent for you readers.

For this chapter, I'm using a few Ancient Egyptian and Sumerian words instead of the terms that you may be more familiar with. So, to clear up any confusion, here are the translations:

Kemet: Egypt in Ancient Egyptian.

Magan: Egypt in Sumerian.

Deshret: The Egyptian term for the crown of Lower Egypt (which encompasses the area from the Nile Delta southward until modern day El Aiyat), pictured as a red helmet of sorts that sloped upward in the back. It represented the papyrus reed. Used here to name the national representative of Lower Egypt.

Hedjet: The Egyptian term for the crown of Upper Egypt (which encompasses the area from El Aiyat to the Nile cataracts. Upper Egypt is below Lower Egypt on a map because the Nile flows northward, and so Ancient Egyptians had a sense of direction that we would consider backwards), pictured as a white helmet shaped like a bowling pin. It represented the lotus flower. Used here to name the national representative of Upper Egypt.

Inbu-Hedj: The Egyptian name for Memphis, who's ruins are located about 20 kilometers south of Giza. Capital of the Old Kingdom of Egypt.

Nemes: Ancient Egyptian headdress, that one that drapes over the shoulders with the blue stripes.

Pschent: The Deshret and Hedjet combined to form a double crown, marking a pharaoh that rules all of Egypt.

Waset: The Egyptian name for Thebes, which is now modern day Luxor. The most prosperous city of Upper Egypt and its capital.

Henen-Nesut: The Egyptian name for Heracleopolis Magna, who's ruins are located near Beni Suef. An influential city in Lower Egypt, capital of the 20th nome.

Nomarchs: rulers of the nomes, or provinces, of Ancient Egypt.

If the descriptions aren't good enough (which they probably are), just search up any of the words on google and you should get pictures and maps.

* * *

Chapter 9: An Era on the Nile

It was the year 3100 BC, and Kemet was united.

Well, not so much united as that Deshret had completely and utterly dominated Hedjet thanks to the excellent military strategy of Narmer, but Deshret liked to think that his whole nation had finally been united. His brother would probably disagree, but what the heck. Hedjet was a stupid desert-dweller, case closed. Now that Deshret ruled all of the Nile, things would be totally awesome! Standing in the royal fortress at the center of the great city of Inbu-Hedj, he could tell that things from here on out would be just great. A bronze-skinned man with shoulder length pitch black hair and piercing kohl-lined blue eyes, he stood at the edge of the fortresses great white walls, wearing only a simple linen loincloth and some gold ornamentation on his shoulders. The wind blew violently in his face, and the humid air was palpable, a sign of the incoming flood season. As he stared out over the beginnings of a city that would eventually become one of the most prosperous in his nation, he saw a strange caravan approaching from the north. Excited and intrigued, he rushed down to meet it.

* * *

Ebla urged her donkey on, leading her small caravan southward towards a land supposedly called Magan, though she had no idea of where this would actually be. It had been nearly three weeks, and she was seriously starting to regret her decision to search for these new trading partners, if they even existed. Contemplating turning back towards the homeland while there was still time, she was interrupted by one of the members of her caravan.

"There!" he yelled, "In distance! A city!" Ebla looked up and was elated to see that there was, indeed, a city in the distance. In the center was a great fortress with white walls, and on the path ahead she could see a dark-skinned man approaching, waving. She could hear him talking in some foreign tongue, and paled. This could be quite more complicated than she had initially assumed.

* * *

"So, this one means 'wheat'?" she asked the man (whom she had discovered to be the national representation of this Magan), pointing to the final symbol that the man had carved in the dirt. It had been a few hours, and the sun was beginning to set. Ebla thanked the gods she was such a quick learner; this language was so far different from her own that, without her years of trading experience, she doubted she could have translated it so efficiently.

"Yes," Deshret replied, both speaking in his language now, "and that should be all the important things you need to know. Some time, you will have to teach me your native tongue. But first, why are you here? I was unaware there were lands, or even nations, that could thrive outside the Nile." Ebla smiled, reveling in just how ignorant this man was of the outside world.

"Oh, there certainly are," she replied candidly, "I'm just the one who wants to establish a few trade connections with you. After that I'll be on my way, and you'll only see a few of my merchants drop by from time to time." Deshret nodded, liking the idea of new ideas from foreign nations flowing in to his new kingdom.

"That would be awesome," he decided, "I look forward to our partnership!" he grabbed Ebla and embraced her, startling her. Honestly, these foreigners were far too open.

"Alright, I'll just need some sort of payment as compensation for my weeks-long journey here." she told him after he let go.

"How about ten bales of wheat?" he asked. Ebla nodded.

"That sounds good, thanks." she replied. As she went back to her caravan to retire for the night, she thought that ten bales of wheat was a rather useful form of payment. Maybe she could turn that into some sort of standard…

* * *

"Something's wrong with it, my architect," murmured the tanned, stern-looking man standing next to Deshret, "it looks bent on the top. Pyramids are not supposed to bend inward at the top. At least not that I know of." The man he was speaking to was equally tanned and bald, wearing nothing but a simple linen robe. His kohl-lined eyes squinted in the harsh Egyptian sunlight as he stared upon his work, analyzing its clear and obvious fault. He looked up at his master, who himself was adorned in royal robes and shining gold ornamentation. He wore the Nemes headdress and Pschent crown of the pharaoh, marking him as the most powerful figure in the glorious renaissance of Egyptian culture known as the Old Kingdom.

"Ah, yes, Lord Sneferu," the architect stuttered, silently cursing his luck, "it appears the innovative new techniques we were attempting to use in the construction of your glorious pyramid have fallen through."

"Literally," Deshret added, earning him a glare from the architect and a laugh from Sneferu. The pharaoh sighed, looking back on the pyramid, incomplete without its limestone casing to cover its rugged stone structure. It bent slightly inward about halfway towards the top, creating the image of a low triangle perched atop a larger trapezoid.

"I suppose it should have been expected such radical new methods would lead to some degree of failure," he remarked, "but all the same I expect you to begin work on a new pyramid as soon as you can." The architect nodded hurriedly, standing up.

"You will not be disappointed again, my Pharaoh!" he said; then rushing off, new plans already formulating in his mind. Deshret walked over to his ruler and patted his back.

"You're going to let him finish it?" he asked amusedly.

"Might as well," Sneferu replied, "Though I hope my citizens keep calling it the Southern Shining Pyramid, and not something idiotic like the Bent Pyramid" Deshret laughed.

"The people love you, one flawed pyramid won't turn them against you. You are a god, after all." he consoled, and Sneferu straightened a little.

"Yes, I am," he noted, "but I am getting to old to build more pyramids. Hopefully my successor will have better luck, eh?"

* * *

"Magnificent!" Khufu proclaimed, gazing upon the massive pyramid in front of him, "Simply magnificent!" Deshret smiled with amusement at Sneferu's successor and his exuberance. More stolid and a goof deal sterner than his father, Khufu was an excellent pharaoh who aspired to do excellent things. This Fourth Dynasty was proving to be incredibly prosperous. He looked at the 'magnificent' pyramid, completely finished with the limestone casing and a golden capstone.

"It's the biggest pyramid in all of Kemet," he remarked, and Khufu smiled with pride.

"This will show the greatness of Kemet for generations!" he exclaimed, "I daresay it may even outlive Kemet itself." Deshret laughed nervously, and jumped in surprise when a voice came from behind him.

"I personally think it's just a waste of time and funds." said Hedjet, wearing a simple linen robe and traditional white, bowling-pin shaped crown which covered his unruly black hair. His dark brown eyes gazed upon the pyramid disapprovingly.

"Oh, come now, brother!" Deshret replied, laughing nervously, "What else could we possibly need to divert funds to?" Hedjet growled at his sibling's response.

"How about the Nubian raiders that have been attacking my farmers? Things may be prosperous here in Lower Kemet, brother, but as Pharaoh Khufu needs to ensure the safety of _all_ his citizens, even the ones in Upper Kemet." Deshret looked affronted.

"I am the one who controls Kemet!" he retorted, "All of it! I'll choose if the army should—" He was interrupted by Khufu, who placed a hand on the chest of either brother; the two of them now inches apart from each other.

"I am pharaoh." he declared simply, "I will take some troops to Nubia and commission more wonders to be built in Inbu-Hedj." The two backed off, argument clearly not resolved. Khufu made for the city center, where his generals resided.

"Come, Hedjet, let us take care of these Nubian raiders." Hedjet shot one last glare at his brother, who glared with equal ferocity in response.

"Yes," he replied, "Let's."

* * *

Hedjet stood with Khufu at the southern frontier of Kemet, surveying the field of their successful battle. The Nubians had fallen easily, disorganized and tribal as they were, and the borders of Kemet were secure once more. Khufu chuckled, turning to Hedjet.

"That wasn't difficult at all!" he said, giving the nation a pat on the back, "The Nubians were routed within minutes, and now we have more land and slaves to show for it." Hedjet nodded, unperturbed by his pharaoh's jovial mannerisms.

"Yes, they seemed to have not recovered from Sneferu's campaigns." He noted, and Khufu laughed.

"Yes!" he remarked, "Father was a wonder to behold on the battlefield. I hope you are now satisfied?" Hedjet nodded once more, turning with Khufu to return to the city of Waset without a word. When they arrived, Khufu took note of the traders that flooded throughout the city's roads.

"The capital of your nome is quite prosperous," he decided, "If not for the prosperity of Inbu-Hedj, I could see it as the capital of Egypt." Hedjet smiled with pride.

"Yes," he replied, "the local nomarchs have prospered thanks to trade from Nubia and Arabia. Waset is the most prosperous city in Upper Kemet, and soon, I wager, it will be the most prosperous city in all of Kemet." Khufu scratched his chin, hanging on that comment about the nomarchs.

"Ah, yes, the nomarchs." he muttered, "They are quite prosperous. I suppose I'll let them be, but I certainly hope they won't become a problem in the future." Hedjet contemplated this.

"They could," he pondered, "but your power keeps them in check. If there were a weaker pharaoh, perhaps the nomarchs would revolt. Perhaps I then would be free of Deshret's control." Khufu eyed Hedjet warily, disliking where this conversation was headed.

"However, for now that is impossible," Hedjet concluded, and Khufu let out a sigh of relief. He smiled at Hedjet, shaking his hand as he made for the cart that would bring him back to Inbu-Hedj.

"Well, I'll just have to take your word for it." he told him, offering a consoling smile, "After all, Upper Kemet is my responsibility just as much as Lower Kemet is. I trust in you completely, Hedjet." Hedjet smiled, and waved the Pharaoh off. If only his brother could be as kind as the Pharaohs that ruled him, he thought.

* * *

Deshret wandered once more upon the great white walls of Inbu-Hedj, thinking of his current predicament. The glory days of Sneferu and Khufu had passed, and Kemet was now under the rule of a Sixth Dynasty that was remarkably weak. The nomarchs were becoming increasingly troublesome, grabbing money and power for themselves whenever they could, and the god-like status of the pharaoh was being brought into question. Deshret himself had grown a short goatee, and his eyes were now lined with wrinkles as evidence of the stress he was under. His hair was no longer smooth, but instead had grown ragged and uncontrolled. He was weary of this chaos. He turned from the city and made his way towards the royal complex, but was intercepted halfway there by a messenger.

"Sir, sir!" the young boy cried, running as fast as he could, "I have terrible news, sir. Pharaoh Pepi has died." Deshret raised an eyebrow. Pepi had lived extraordinarily long for a human, reigning over Kemet for ninety years. He had outlived his children, and had no legitimate heirs. Deshret sighed at the implications. There would be another dynastic dispute, and the kingdom would transition from Sixth to Seventh. However, the messenger seemed to be far more panicked than this situation warranted.

"Is that all?" Deshret asked, praying to Ra that it was.

"No, sir," the messenger replied, shaking his head, "some of the nomarchs have risen up in rebellion against pharaonic authority." Deshret recoiled in shock. A full-scale revolt? Without a proper dynasty to manage Kemet, how would he be able to respond? This was not good. In fact, it was very bad. Terrible, even. Oh, how he longed for the old dynasties! Sneferu would have been able to take care of this without breaking a sweat. But now, it seemed, for the smallest of reasons, nine hundred years of prosperity and wonder were about to be undone by a few smug nomarchs and their personal armies. Deshret pushed his way past the messenger and made his way into the royal complex. Pharaonic rule needed to be restored, and then he could deal with the nomarchs.

* * *

Deshret collapsed into a chair, exhausted. He felt old. Too old. The Eight Dynasty had succeeded the Seventh, and they were just as weak. His control over Kemet was on tenterhooks, and the nomarchs continued to fight each other and the Pharaoh's with their personal armies. Hedjet, that traitorous little desert-dweller, had declared himself a dynasty from Waset. Things were not looking good at all. It seemed he was in for a long, drawn out death, and he did not like that one bit. As if to top off his miserable situation, the door slammed open and a man wielding a fierce looking scimitar stepped in. He was young, Deshret noted, looking barely over sixteen, and wore his shining black hair in a ponytail. He wore traditional Egyptian armor, and his dark eyes shined with a triumphant sort of fury.

"I've found you!" he exclaimed, "Now I can depose you and rule all of Kemet!" Deshret eyed the boy incredulously, drawing his own curved blade from behind his chair.

"Who are you?" he demanded, rising to his full height and towering over the young nation, causing his confidence to falter. However, he soon regained his stance and stared Deshret down confidently.

"The nomarchs of Henen-Nesut have declared their own dynasty!" he declared, "I represent them, and am here to claim Lower Kemet from you!" Deshret sputtered, clearly baffled by this seemingly random turn of events. He knew the nomarchs had been growing steadily in power, but strong enough to form their own nation? That was just absurd! He was determined to put this young pretender down.

"The true pharaohs of Inbu-Hedj recognize no dynasty from Henen-Nesut!" he thundered, "Your life will be as short lived as it is meaningless, boy!" he rushed Henen-Nesut, thrusting his blade downward towards the young man's gut. Henen, however, anticipated the blow and parried it with his own blade, wrenching Deshret's weapon from his hands. He then brought his blade across the older nations chest, opening a wide gash and causing Deshret to stumble backwards, crashing down to the ground in defeat.

"Yes!" Henen yelled in triumph, "I rule supreme over Kemet! Get out, old man, before I slay you completely! The Ninth Dynasty has a new, more powerful nation to represent it!" Cowed, Deshret stumbled out of the room and ran from Inbu-Hedj, searching for a ride to Waset.

* * *

"So, you lost the entirety of your land to an upstart nation from Henen-Nesut, and now you want me to attack him and reclaim Lower Kemet for you?" Hedjet asked, Deshret having plead his case to his brother immediately after arriving.

"Please, brother," Deshret pleaded, "I've nowhere else to turn." Hedjet pondered the proposition for about two seconds.

"No." he said with an air of finality, staring at his brother with contempt.

"What!?" Deshret exclaimed, grasping Hedjet's robes, "Brother, reconsider! If I don't get my land back soon, I could fade entirely!" Hedjet frowned, and pushed his sibling off of himself.

"You won't," he spat, "I spent nearly nine hundred years with you ruling all of Kemet, and I turned out fine. Thanks to Intef, my nation is stronger than ever before, and now that I'm independent, you can't boss me around anymore. Things are fine in Upper Kemet, brother, and I've no need to get involved in some war for you of all people. You can fade for all I care, Deshret. You were nothing but a tyrant to me." He stormed off, leaving Deshret to sit, shocked, on the ground.

It was the year 2100 BC, and Kemet was divided.

* * *

Alright, time for 900 years of Ancient Egyptian history in a few paragraphs! The dynastic kingdom of Egypt was founded when Narmer (also known as Menes), king of Lower Egypt, conquered Upper Egypt and united all of Egypt under his rule. For the next two dynasties the pharaoh's consolidated their rule from the capital city of Inbi-Hedj, until the Third Dynasty, when Egypt exploded into a cultural renaissance known as the Old Kingdom. For the next three dynasties pharaohs would conquer lands south of Egypt (i.e. Nubia), build massive monuments, and generally enjoy absolute power and the complete adoration of their subjects. Sneferu built three pyramids, and his son Khufu build the Great Pyramid at Giza. Khufu's grandson, Khafre, would construct another one of the pyramids at Giza and the Sphinx (he's unmentioned here because that's pretty much all he did).

However, towards the sixth dynasty, pharaonic power would begin to wane. This was thanks to many factors, the first being the rising power and prosperity of the nomarchs, who had been basically left unchecked throughout the Old Kingdom and allowed to accumulated wealth and power as they wished. Pepi II, the last pharaoh of the sixth dynasty, also had outlived his heirs, creating a dynastic dispute. Finally, the Nile didn't flood as much as it usually did in 2180, and as a result there was a famine as the Egyptian farmers relied on the Nile's floods to grow crops. The seventh and eighth dynasties ruled (if you could even call it that) a fractured and warring kingdom from Inbi-Hedj, and eventually they would be overthrown by kings from Henen-Nesut. Meanwhile, the nomarchs in Waset declared themselves independent under Intef, a great organizer who managed to unite all of Upper Egypt into a coherent entity. This is known as the First Intermediate Period, and it won't end until 2055 BC, by which time considerable events will have occurred elsewhere (namely Sumer).

Feel free to leave corrections in the comments!


	10. Some Civilizations of Note

Chapter 10: Some Civilizations of Note

A man awoke on the banks of the Indus river. With deep brown skin; short black hair that hugged his head, chin, and neck; wide brown eyes and a well-built muscular frame, he looked around. He wore a simple tunic that draped around one shoulder, the color indescribable. He began to walk down the river, eventually reaching a farm of sorts. He noticed the crops were bountiful, and that the year's monsoon had brought surplus to the land. Farmers harvested their bumper crops and took them inland, to parts unknown to him. He would guess cities, gatherings of people under great stone fortifications. He would guess right.

He hitched a ride on a donkey cart with a farmer, arriving at a city fortified with great stone walls. They were not for protecting against conflict, but for protecting against the great floods of the Indus river. Inside dark-skinned people went about their daily lives; potters selling various jars and vases, governors managing the recent influx of grain, traders taking items to be sold further downstream, perhaps at another city. This city had a name. A name written in a script that adorned the walls of the shops and the seals on the governors' tablets. The farmer dropped the man off at a massive granary, where he was to deposit his surplus crop. The man wandered into the city, watching the people go about their lives. He may have had a conversation with the governors. He could have gone to the great bath in the center of the city, and bathed in water freshly pumped from the Indus. He might have perused the various shops in the citadel's central square, or conversed with the priests about the gods.

Eventually he made his way to the port. Ships sat at the harbor, small but sturdy ships that could cross oceans. They were manned by experienced traders, carting spices and tools onto their ships to be carried down the coasts. Some ships dared to go further than the coasts, farther west to lands yet undiscovered. One of those ships had returned. The captain spoke of a faraway land filled with strange people of lighter skin. These people had also built great stone cities, and had things that the people living on the Indus could never even imagine. Great things, like stepped monuments that stretched into the sky, and a delicious drink brewed from grains. Horrible things, like weapons carved from a shining brown metal that could disembowel a man with a flick of the wrist. But they also didn't have things, things that the people of the Indus did have. They wanted to trade. There was one city, on the coasts, like this one, that had prosperity and wealth that it wished to share, but it had no sailing ships. The man was intrigued. Perhaps more men could go to this faraway land, and exchange their spices for the riches of this coastal city. More men would go, and relations would be established. The man would never see the faraway land for himself, but they knew of each other, and that was enough.

The man would walk back into the city, and then back to the river. This was not the only city, he knew. There were many more. There were two that ascended beyond the others, two who's glory and majesty stood unparalleled. They dominated the Indus, spreading their influence south to the coast where he was and north deep into the jungle until they were stopped by the mountains that closed these lands off from the rest of the world. They were a civilization. He was the civilization. He had a name.

But we do not know his name any longer. The Sumerians called him Meluhha. The British scholars could not decipher his language, and thus he was called the Indus Valley Civilization. His name and culture are lost to time.

* * *

The isle of Crete, in the center of the Aegean. Undisturbed by the political disturbances in the Middle East, a new civilization emerged. Tall, fair skinned, blue-eyed and with wavy black hair, he stood at the gates of Knossos, a small city towards the island's coasts. His simple white tunic fell loosely over his skin, and he looked scant a day over nineteen. It was the year 2500 BC, and the island was finally starting to show some sign of civilization. The local lords had gained power thanks to the recent prosperity granted to the island from agriculture, and had asserted their dominance over the city. Bureaucracy was being put in place, and law codes being established. In Knossos, small dwellings were being established for the new rulers, but they were nothing compared to the huge palaces that will eventually dominate the Cretan landscape. However, those palaces laid far in the future. For now, the man walked through the small city to survey the agriculture going on in the farms outside. Satisfied, he made his way to the ports, where a small ship returned from forays out into the northern Aegean.

"How was your journey?" he greeted the sailor, observing the stranger who rode with him on the ship. He was a young boy, looking about fourteen. His hair was short, black, and curly; and his skin was fair like the man's. His dark eyes brimmed with curiosity and childlike wonder.

"Well enough," the sailor replied, "found some islands north of here, and some people living on them. They're like us, but with a few more ships to get around." The nation nodded in response, recognizing the young boy on the sailor's ship to be the representative of these people. They exchanged names, and the man showed him around the island. Eventually they returned to Knossos.

"What a great city…" the boy whispered, awestruck, and the man can't help but to smile.

"I suppose it is," he remarked, turning to look upon the city, "you have nothing like this on your islands?" The boy shook his head, slightly embarrassed.

"We just have ships, and a few marble statues." he replied, "Honestly, I was kind of worried that you people would be hostile and I'd have no means to put up a fight." The man laughed, smiling at the boy sympathetically.

"Don't worry, then," he said assuredly, "my people aren't all too concerned with war with foreign powers. The local lords are too busy warring with each other." The boy smiled, and the man rested a hand on his shoulder. He liked this boy. He would keep him around.

* * *

"What a cute little city!" Deshret remarked, stepping off his boat with his brother Hedjet in tow, "Nothing like Inbi-Hedj or Waset, but cute!" Hedjet glared at his brother, huffing in response.

"Let's just get this over with, shall we?" he muttered, "I don't like spending time away from my homeland." Deshret half-ignored him, searching the island for inhabitants.

"If you want to be like that, stay on the boat," he replied, "I've got state business to take care off." Hedjet sighed and resigned himself to the boat, letting his brother foray further inland. _I could leave him here_ , he pondered, _but everyone would notice. Better to bide my time_. Deshret, having reached Knossos, finally found what he was looking for.

"Who are you?" he asked the man and the boy, looking curiously upon their paled faces and curly hair. They looked upon him with equal curiosity, though from the man there was perhaps a degree of apprehension. They gave him their names, and to them he did the same.

"Why are you here?" the man asked, warily shielding the boy behind him.

"Well, you see, I got a visit from some lady a few decades ago talking about how there were other states out there that I could trade with," Deshret replied, "and I figured I'd try and find some to trade with! I had no idea there would be an island this far north though. And one with such a fledgling nation! Anyway, do you want to establish trade contact?" The man decided it couldn't hurt, and he began to trade with the land of Kemet. He befriended Deshret, and became increasingly prosperous. The days of the great palaces of Knossos drew nearer, and the boy watched in awe as the man grew more and more centralized and powerful. The man eventually established a presence on the boy's islands, to keep watch over him. Together, they ruled the Aegean and traded throughout it. It was a golden age.

* * *

This chapter was a bit vague, and that is completely intentional. Unlike the Ancient Sumerian and Egyptian Civilizations, we know pretty much next to nothing about the Indus Valley, Minoan, and Cycladic civilizations. The Indus Valley Civilization was centered aroudn two cities: Harappa and Mojendo-daro. These are not the original names of these cities, they were given after the fact by archaeologists upon the discovery of their ruins, so I chose to omit names from the chapter. Whatever the original inhabitants of these cities called them, it was probably not Harappa or Mojendo-daro. The Indus Valley Civilization was incredibly advanced for its time, possessing hydraulic plumbing systems and huge local baths. It also has the least monumental structures out of any ancient civilization, suggesting warfare was at a minimum. The Harappan people (as we have dubbed them) traded with the Sumerians, but even that is subject to debate, because we have no way of deciphering their script. Unlike Sumerian cuneiform and Egyptian hieroglyphics, there is simply no way to decipher the Indus Script. Thusly, most everything that could be known about this once-great civilization is _not_ known.

The Minoan civilization is a bit less vague, but still pretty in the dark. Named Minoan after Minos (who may or may not have been a king of the civilization), this one evolved on the isle of Crete and eventually would develop great and intricate palaces, but not at the point in the timeline (about 2100 BC) that we are at now. Minoans would trade with Egyptians, because many Egyptians artifacts have been found on Crete dated to this period. To north of Crete, on the Cyclades islands, a smaller civilization would develop that essentially nothing is known about except for the fact that they traded around the Aegean, made marble statues, and were heavily influenced by the Minoans. These two will eventually be eclipsed by far greater, more dynamic nations; but for now we just get the man (Minoa) and the boy (Cyclades).

Feel free to leave corrections in the comments! Next post in two days; we'll be heading back to Sumer to catch up with Akkad, Uruk, Lagash and the others after the devastating campaigns of Naram-Sin.


	11. Disturbances

Chapter 11: Disturbances

c. 2128 BC

A caravan made its way eastward, returning from the far-off shores of the western sea to the banks of the Tigris and the Euphrates. At first glance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary with this trading caravan. However, if one looked closer, cracks in the façade could be found. The donkeys were exhausted, driven for days on end without stop. The supply carts were nearly empty, as if the merchants had made no time to resupply when they passed towns. The men themselves moved with a certain urgency; something had them on a knife's edge. Two of them in particular carried themselves with a degree of haste and worry; never sleeping, always awake. The first was Akkad, and his comrade was Ur.

"How much longer until we reach the center of the empire?" Akkad demanded, motioning for Ur to follow him into town for a short resupply trip with a few of the men. Ur quickly fell into line, marking down items that needed to be replaced. It may have been decades since he last had to manage his own city, but he had never lost his administrative flair.

"A few days now," he replied, "We're in Ashur, so the paths from here on in will be better-travelled and in superior condition." Akkad nodded, mind already elsewhere.

"And what did that report say again?" he asked, now for the sixth time that day. Ur huffed in annoyance and sympathy. Akkad had been so concerned over the state of his empire for the past few days that he hadn't slept, and yet he still couldn't take his mind off of it. The man may have killed to achieve his ambitions, but as he struggled to maintain them Ur was seeing a different side of him. Akkad could be sympathetic and caring when he wanted to. On the way here, at every city, Akkad had made short stops to meet with the governors of each one. At first Ur had assumed it to be a simple status update; to make sure none of them were considering revolt. However, when he had slipped into one of these visits, he had overheard Akkad asking about the state of the populace: if they were well-fed, content, and unworried. Additionally, instead of sharply rebuking Ur for eavesdropping on state affairs (as was per usual), Akkad simply took Ur aside and explained to him what needed to be done in the city to ensure stability. This was surprising and welcome change of attitude from how Akkad had been during the campaigns of Sargon and Naram-Sin. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Ur realized he still had a question to answer. Even after repeating it for the sixth time, the answer continued to bemuse him.

"Four kings have been declared in your city, my friend," he replied, "a sure sign of instability and portent of insurrection." Akkad mumbled under his breath, going over the news. It had come suddenly, and out of nowhere. Naram-Sin's son, Shar-kali-sharri, had been ruling competently for some years now, but had suddenly died and left behind him a state of affairs that rapidly descended into chaos. Who was king? Nobody knew nor seemed to care. Power hungry nobles were grabbing for the crown, and it seemed Akkad's hard-won empire was prepared to unravel in an instant. There were rumblings of rebellion. Ur had heard rumors of trouble in Uruk and Lagash, and frankly he wasn't surprised. Leave it to his brother to come out of the blue and completely disrupt the status quo. A few years ago, he would've have been jubilant to hear such news. Now, however, he wasn't so sure. After months of travelling around with Akkad to secure the frontiers of his empire, Ur had seen something that he had never laid witness to during the days of Kish and Ebla: peace. Sure, there would be the occasional rebellious outbreak from time to time, but overall Akkad kept an bronze-grip on his empire. People no longer spent their days fighting for the independence of their cities against a briefly dominant warlord, or worrying about surviving through the next cycle of the Kingship. Akkad may have violently brought an end to the old ways, but in doing so he had created a new kind of order, one that seemed almost rejuvenating to the war-torn land between two rivers. Ur contemplated this as he gathered some bags of grain to bring back from the caravan. Akkad stood beside him, finishing a transaction with the farmer who had provided them. To Ur's surprise, he struck up a conversation.

"I suppose it must please you to think that your siblings may finally gain their independence from my empire." he remarked as they walked back towards the caravan, "You always have had a particular soft spot when it comes to that." Ur looked at his compatriot warily, suspecting this was some sort of bait. However, Akkad had been treating him well the past few days. He responded with honesty.

"I suppose I am," he said, "my siblings had their freedom and family wrested from them without so much as a warning. I feel like they deserve some semblance of freedom after all of that. After all that was taken from them, my brothers should be able to do as they please." As the two set down their supplies in the caravan, Akkad looked over at Ur with a measure of shock. He laughed a little, then adopted a weary smile.

"I thought I had finally won you over," he joked, "yet here I find you still blinded to my true vision by your love for your brothers." Ur laughed nervously in return, and Akkad grabbed his shoulder and looked into his eyes.

"Follow me back into the city, Ur." he said, obviously unwilling to take no for an answer, "There is something we must discuss." Ur obliged, and the duo made their way back into Ashur's central square. People bustled around them, and shops began to close up for the night as the sun set, painting the stone buildings a rusty red. Akkad surveyed the scene, and then turned to look at Ur.

"What do you see?" he asked, and Ur took a moment to answer.

"People," he finally replied, "who are going about their daily lives." Akkad chuckled and shook his head slightly.

"Ah, but I see more here, Ur." he explained, "I see subjects. Not just people, but members of my empire. People who I rule and therefore am charged to provide for. I must manage their taxes, their infrastructure, and their livelihoods. They in return remain obedient to my government, and support me in the forms of armies and a labor force. Without them, I am nothing. Yet, without me, their lives would fall apart. It is a strange and convoluted system, but a beautiful one, don't you agree?"

"I suppose I do." Ur responded, taken aback by the sudden philosophical turn this conversation had taken.

"Now, Ur, tell me what your brothers would do if they ever gained their independence?" Akkad inquired, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"They would seek to kill you and tear away your system, return things to the old ways." Ur responded immediately, "What are you getting at?" Akkad looked back over the city; the tide of people was beginning to ebb as the sun lowered further in the sky.

"Yes, they would destroy all I have created." he mused, "They would go back to warring amongst each other. The people of this city would no longer have a strong central government to rely on. They would be forced into wars against their neighbors, and the strength of their city would be sapped until they were barely scraping by. Did you know, Ur, that before I rose to power Ashur was a pathetic settlement of little importance? Under my empire, it has grown into a massive administrative center and is probably the most important city in this region. I've brought prosperity and peace to Sumer; what about that warrants destruction?" Ur looked back on Akkad, confused at his superior's question.

"You killed nations for this empire, Akkad." he retorted, "For peace, you engaged in the most devastating war this region has ever seen. Uruk would argue that alone warrants your destruction." Akkad nodded.

"I don't doubt you on that." he agreed, "However, you think differently, don't you?" There was silence for a moment.

"The empire you have created has brought much change to Sumer," Ur finally replied, "a lot of it positive. However, you are a murderer, Akkad. You may very well deserve to die."

"But I am the empire, Ur." Akkad argued, "My death sends the lives of these people into chaos. This system, this bureaucracy, it surpasses the boundaries of right and wrong. I may have killed Kish and Ebla, but in their place, I have established something better. If they had lived, they would have surely opposed this. They were blind, like Uruk and Lagash are."

"Are you saying their deaths were justified?" Ur asked incredulously.

"Were they not?" Akkad demanded, "I placed the welfare of Mesopotamia over the needs of a few choice city-states. When you fight for a cause as righteous as mine, Ur, your enemies must die. Kish may have meant well, but he only would've prolonged the suffering of our land. Think about it, my friend. You know I am right." With that Akkad made his way back to the caravan, preparing to leave. Ur followed him, but a measured distance behind. Akkad's remarks had disturbed him, unsettled him even. However, in the back of his mind he couldn't deny that nagging voice that said the empire had been right.

* * *

"Are you ready, brother?" Uruk asked, fastening his sword to his belt. His hair was braided immaculately, and his scruffy beard neatly groomed. His bronze eyes gleamed as bright as his sword as he looked upon Lagash, who smiled brightly in return. The younger nation's arm still lay in a sling, but his hair had also been trimmed. He was clean-shaven, and his hair was short and scruffy as it had been during the glory days of the Kingship. He hefted a shield on his uninjured limb.

"As ready as I'll ever be." he replied, "With four kings ruling in Akkad, now is the best time to reclaim our cities." Uruk nodded, surveying the men he had gathered in a secluded location near the center of Lagash's city. Uruk already had his back, having declared a Fourth Dynasty in opposition to Akkadian rule. Now it was just time to reclaim his brothers. However, the city was well-fortified and stocked with Akkadian troops. The battle would be hard-fought, and as much as Lagash had recovered, Uruk knew he would not be able to take a defeat. They were determined to win, no matter the odds. Together they made their way towards the exit that would let them out right on top of the Akkadian garrisons. They waited patiently.

"Now!" proclaimed one of Lagash's generals, and the force streamed out and onto the streets. The battle intensified immediately, as Akkad's men desperately sought to stave off the freedom fighters. Uruk struck down man after man, losing Lagash in the din of the fighting. He took a few seconds to look around, but was quickly sidetracked by a spear-wielding Akkadian soldier. The battle continued on for hours, fighting progressing through the streets of the city. A few times Uruk thought he saw Lagash, but always his attention was diverted by another threat. The battle raged on, the garrison regrouping and pushing Uruk's forces back. They retreated into the back-alleys, but held out. Then, suddenly, a furious war cry came from down the street. Uruk turned, and finally found Lagash. Blade raised high in the air, the nation charged the Akkadian force with a few of his own men from the flank and butchered all in his path. The Akkadian line broke, and with each inch of ground they gained Uruk could see his brother growing stronger. By the afternoon, the Akkadians were in full retreat, running from the city. Lagash stood triumphantly at the gate, sling removed and armor stained with blood.

"Stay out!" he declared, "The Second Dynasty of Lagash has begun!" he turned to look at Uruk, who smiled widely in response. Lagash was back, and now they would take the fight to Akkad.

* * *

Ur walked briskly through the streets of his city, approaching the central complex. The four kings had only ruled for four years, and King Shu-Durul had briefly brought stability back to the empire. However, there were resurgent dynasties in Uruk and Lagash now, just as Ur and Akkad had predicted so long ago. Now the rumor was that the Elamites were seeking to rebel as well, and that the short-lived stability would be crushed before it even got a chance to establish itself. Bursting into the complex, Ur made his way to an antechamber he considered his office. No Akkadian soldiers staffed the hallways, they had all been recalled to Akkad in the past few months. Akkad himself had become gaunt and ragged, his shoulder length hair allowed to grow down to his upper back and the beginnings of a beard growing on his face. His eyes had become dull and lifeless, and wrinkles dominated his face from the stress of maintaining a failing empire. However, he still carried with him an air of strength, as if he was daring anyone to assume he was weak. He'd been concerned with barbarian raids on the empire's northeastern frontiers the last time Ur had spoken to him, but that was months ago. Now, Ur was on his own. He walked into his study, and was shocked to find someone there. Dressed in battle armor, eyes twinkling and a cocksure smile on his face, Uruk stood in the center of the room.

"Brother?!" Ur cried in shock, standing in the doorway. Uruk's smiled widened, and he rushed to embrace his sibling.

"Thank An!" he exclaimed, "I told Lagash you'd be here! It's been decades, Ur, how have you been?" They hugged for a few moments and then Uruk relinquished his grip, allowing Ur to respond.

"Akkad kept me around as a kind of secretary." he replied, "As the most prosperous city in the region, I suppose he thought I'd be useful." Uruk's smile turned into a frown, and he shook his fist.

"That damned conqueror," he growled, looking away for a moment before his gaze returned to his brother's face, "but fear not, brother, we've come to liberate you! We're going to slaughter that tyrant in his own city, end his empire and free Sumer from his grip. Join us! Together, you, Lagash and I will be unstoppable, I know it!" Ur contemplated his brother's proposal, bringing his hand to his chin and stroking his beard as a force of habit. As much as he would hate to admit it, he had missed his siblings dearly. He wanted to join them and bring Sumer back to the way things had always been. But, at the same time, Akkad's remarks planted just enough discourse in his mind to cause him to reconsider. What if, in avenging Kish, they just threw Sumer into turmoil? However, as he saw his brother's exuberant smile and hopeful eyes, Ur found himself lured into Uruk's camp. He may have made a good point, but that did not excuse Akkad's murder of his siblings, his old family. He turned and drew his old bronze sword from under a table.

"Let's go." he said confidently, and together he and Uruk made their way to battle.

* * *

So, after just getting a handle on Mesopotamia the Akkadian Empire is already falling apart. After Naram-Sin's son, the Sumerian King List describes a time of turmoil in the empire that can be most accurately described as anarchy. Four kings laid claim to the throne, and in the chaos Uruk and Lagash were able to declare new dynasties that would come into direct competition with Akkad's rule in the north. Conflict is brewing, and in the next chapter it will come to a head, though maybe in some ways you won't expect!

Leave corrections in the comments, and tune in next time for the end of an empire!


	12. In Which an Unexpected Victor Emerges

Chapter 12: In Which an Unexpected Victor Emerges

c. 2083 BC

Uruk, Lagash, and Ur sat in a small camp, having stopped for the night on their trek northward to Akkad. Their faces were basked in the firelight as they ate, silently contemplating the battle to come. Ur was lost in deep thought, while Lagash and Uruk were engaged in a conversation about tactics.

"So, if we are routed initially, I say we set up camp just outside the city and surround it." Lagash was saying, "We'll starve their forces out of Akkad and slaughter them in the fields." Uruk nodded solemnly, picking up a stick and drawing a small circle in the dirt. He motioned towards its center with his stick.

"If this is Akkad," he began, drawing a few squares outside the circle, "and this is our forces, then we should set them up towards the main entrance to the city so we're ready for that to happen." Lagash nodded, grabbed the stick, and drew a few arrows from the squares to the back of the city.

"We'd still want to position some in the back first, though," he added, "to act as reserves and pick off any stragglers." He put the stick down, and Uruk silently pumped his fist.

"We've got this battle in the bag." he muttered, "Nothing's going to stop me from giving that brother-killing tyrant exactly what he deserves." Lagash instinctively flexed his left arm, recalling just how useless it had been only a few years earlier.

"You bet we are." he growled, bronze in his words, "We'll annihilate his city and any who support him." Ur chose this moment to emerge from his thoughts, catching only the last few sentences of the conversation. He looked at each of his brothers, worry creasing his forehead.

"Isn't that a little overboard?" he asked, imagining the chaos that may unfold, "We take his city and depose him from power, yes; but complete annihilation seems like we're going to far." Uruk looked at Ur apprehensively, unable to formulate a response, while Lagash openly glared.

"You would have this murderer suffer less?" he demanded, "The same man who slaughtered Kish in the center of a temple, who left Umma a decaying corpse on the battlefield, and would've killed you just as quickly if not for my intervention? The man who killed Ebla and burnt Mari to the ground? You would have us let him escape with his life?" Ur put up his hands, raising his guard.

"I don't mean that at all, and you know it." he retorted, "It is true that Akkad has taken a tremendous amount from us. But consider what he has given. Under his rule, Mesopotamia has seen peace unlike we ever have before. Instead of annihilating all he has built, perhaps we could learn from it and improve it."

"Improve?" Lagash asked incredulously, "What is there to improve upon? Tyranny? Death? Suppression? Mesopotamia may be at peace, but it is not a happy one! However secure it may be, the Akkadian Empire is an abomination to our way of life! There's no improving on it!" Ur frowned, frustrated that Lagash was refusing to see his point.

"And what was our way of life, brother?" he sneered, "What were we before Akkad took control? We warred constantly, pushing our cities and resources to the brink for the sake of the Kingship! It took all of Kish's willpower just to keep us in line! You would return to that chaos? Akkad may have killed, yes, but his bureaucracy has finally put an end to that. You're so eager to avenge Kish and the others that you don't realize that in destroying this you're spitting in the very face of their memory!" Lagash stood, anger flashing in his eyes.

"Spitting in the face of their memory?!" he yelled, "Who's side are you on? At least I'm not espousing the achievements of the man who slaughtered my siblings like pigs!" For a few seconds they sat like that, Lagash burning with fury and Ur sitting with equal fervor across from him. Then Uruk laughed; a sharp, desperate sound that seemed to pierce the tension of the situation and tear it asunder.

"Lagash!" he said nervously, "You forget my brother spent just as many years Akkad's captive as we did on the run! He doesn't know what he's saying, Akkad poisoned his mind during all those decades they spent together. Think about what you're saying brother, surely you don't mean it?" Uruk looked at Ur, eyes begging him to agree and end the argument. Ur huffed, and looked away, crossing his arms. Lagash turned, contempt shining in his eyes.

"I suppose." he said to Ur, "Though your brother should think more before he speaks if that truly is the case." He made for the caravan, preparing to bed for the night. Uruk eyed his brother once more, getting up and patting him on the shoulder before heading towards his own bed. Ur sat by the campfire, flame dancing in his eyes, as he considered all that had been said. Why couldn't they see the practicality of the system? Akkad may have inserted it into Sumer with an overabundance of violence, but the empire itself had potential! With another huff, he rose to feet and made his way to sleep, silently cursing his ignorant brothers.

* * *

Akkad stood at the gates of his city, readying for the coming battle. He knew Uruk, Lagash and Ur would arrive any moment now, but he was not about to let the empire he had worked so hard to build topple without a fight. He was dressed in full battle regalia, which wasn't much, to be honest. A simple white tunic wrapped around him, with a protective leather bodice with bronze and gold ornamentation encircling his chest and torso to protect from swords. His golden helmet was the true spectacle of his armor, meticulously crafted to resemble human hair in intricate braids across the front and back of his head. It covered his scalp down to his ears, but left his face exposed so he could properly see his enemies in battle. At his side was his trusty bronze blade, the very same he had used in his countless campaigns into Mesopotamia. On his chest was a golden ceremonial blade, looking worn but still sharp. Akkad took it out and examined it, remembering the day that he had started on his endeavor. The day he had killed Kish, taken the Kingship and launched the first of his campaigns to control all of Mesopotamia. Re-sheathing the blade, his resolve strengthened to bronze. He would not be defeated here, not by these ingrates. His mission was greater than that. He had achieved his goal, and now it was up to him to keep all that he had gained. He would not falter. His attention was diverted as a messenger approached, breathing heavily after what was presumably a long journey.

"What news have you brought?" Akkad asked, "Quick, tell me, the battle approaches." The messenger caught his breath and then looked to Akkad, composing himself.

"Word of new attacks, sir." he reported.

"What, from Elam?" Akkad interrupted, "I know of those. After this, I will take care of them personally. Your news is late." The messenger shook his head, causing Akkad to arch a brow in surprise.

"The barbarians, milord," he explained, "they've renewed attacks on the northern borders, and with more savagery and frequency than ever before. We fear the northern garrisons will be overrun." Akkad turned his head towards the sky, glaring at the gods for their incredibly poor timing. He turned back to the messenger. If trial by fire was what they demanded, then he would survive it.

"Tell the generals to keep the garrison for as long as they are able," he instructed, "after this battle is won, new forces will be sent to assist them." The messenger nodded and went on his way. Akkad's eyes followed him as he left, until he was jarred by the sound of battle cries in the distance. He turned back towards the fields at the front of his city, and saw a massive force approaching. The battle had arrived. He stepped forward briskly, until he could see the three figures leading the army. Before long they were face to face. They were dressed in similar armor; simple tunics and loincloths guarded by leather across the bare chest. Uruk wore his hair like an ancient Sumerian King, shoulder length hair and long beard, both trimmed and styled into waves and braids. His eyes dark; emotion reserved for the battle ahead. Lagash wore a helmet, the pointed top covering his head down to his ears. He bore a large shield with bronze fittings to make it more durable, and a short battle axe. His eyes smoldered with rage, practically daring Akkad to launch an assault. Finally, there was Ur. His hair was long and undone, and his beard tapered to a short point above his collarbone. His eyes were unreadable, and he carried a short sword in his right hand.

"Are we to begin?" Akkad asked, drawing his blade and thrusting it high into the air. He was dignified with no response as Lagash crashed into him, roaring with fury. The call for battle was given, and the carnage began.

* * *

Uruk stumbled to halt at the edge of his camp, exhausted after the day's battle. They had made good progress, driving the Akkadian forces back to the gates of their own city, but they had not been able to break the Akkadian line. Just as Lagash had planned, the Sumerian army was setting up camp around Akkad's walls. Uruk sat down near a medical area and winced, a wound in his arm giving him some problems. He made to wrap it when he heard someone sit down next to him. He turned to see that it was none other than Ur, also looking exhausted after the long conflict.

"Did you hear?" he asked, finishing the bandages for his brother, "Elam has driven all the Akkadian forces from his borders. The Akkadian Empire is beginning to break apart." Uruk smiled at the news, patting Ur on the back. The other nation jumped at this, and chuckled nervously.

"We're making progress," Uruk told him, "and Akkad is not. Soon we'll have him right where we want him, and all will be made right once more. It may have taken decades, but the vengeance of Sumer will finally be thrust upon Akkad with all our might!" His eyes shone brightly with righteous fury, and Ur made a noncommittal grunt in response. Aware of his brother's melancholy behavior, Uruk re-situated himself to better face Ur.

"What's the matter, brother?" he asked, "Your argument with Lagash still chewing fresh wounds in your pride?" Ur's expression soured, and Uruk laughed.

"Oh, come now!" he lectured, "Just admit you were wrong and be done with it. No point in prolonging this fight, especially in while we're in battle with Akkad." Ur sighed and looked his brother in the eye.

"So you think I am wrong as well?" he questioned, "You see absolutely no value in the system that Akkad's empire has established in Sumer?" Uruk, taken aback, shook his head.

"Ur, the system you speak of is one that kills nations like us." he replied, "The Akkadian Empire is not designed to bring peace to Sumer, only suffering. All Akkad wants is control us, not anything else." Ur's gaze sharpened.

"But in doing so he has unintentionally given us something that could bring order to Sumer!" he retorted, "The early years were filled with so much chaos, and now that has changed! What must a do to convince you there is but one sliver of worth in this system?" Uruk's gaze hardened in return, and he placed a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Nothing," he replied, "because there isn't. The chaos wasn't gone, it was juts concealed. I traveled for decades with Lagash around the outskirts of empire, and all we found were people discontented with Akkad's tyrannical rule." Ur shoved his brother off, now truly angry.

"Yet there _was_ order!" he exclaimed, "That alone should be worth the discontent of a few people on the fringes of an empire! Whether they acknowledged it or not, their life was improved!" Uruk frowned.

"Be careful with what you say, Ur," he growled, "your precious order isn't worth the lives of my people." Ur stood up, glaring openly.

"I would gladly sacrifice my people's comfort in their rulers if it would guarantee them a safe and prosperous existence." he spat. Uruk rose to his feet as well.

"Is that so?" he retorted, "Would you sacrifice your family, too? Mari? Lagash? Ebla? Kish? Me?" he stared threateningly at his sibling, daring him to respond. After a moment, he did, and with no small degree of venom:

"In a heartbeat." Uruk's eyes widened, and he took a step back. After a few moments, his face cemented into one of betrayal and disappointment.

"So, you side with the conqueror." he muttered, his voice gravelly.

"No," Ur replied, "I side with order and peace, brother." Uruk turned away, unable to face this man who stood before him.

"Don't call me that," he murmured, "you're no brother of mine."

* * *

The morning arrived, and with it, the battle returned. Lagash stood proudly at the walls of the city, Uruk at his side. The other nation seemed distracted, by what Lagash could not guess. He would have to question him later. Ur wasn't here, but Lagash assumed he was on the battlefield, assisting with preparations. He looked around at his troops. They weren't in top condition, exhausted after the march here and the grueling battle from the day before. He himself was tired as well, but he couldn't show it. He must appear strong to the enemy he had aspired to defeat for so long. He turned back to the gates of Akkad. If there was to be an attack, it would be any moment now.

Then, suddenly, the gates burst open and Akkadian troops came flooding out. Lagash rushed into battle, hefting his shield to block the swarm of attacks that seemed to come from every direction. He engaged in combat with several soldiers, each time taking them down with vigor and power unparalleled. The Akkadian forces were also exhausted, he could tell. They'd taken just as much a toll as his troops had, maybe more. He began to gain the advantage, when suddenly he was knocked off of his feet by a blow from behind. He quickly rose and turned to face his foe, who was none other than Akkad himself.

"The tyrant rears his ugly head," Lagash growled, entering a fighting stance and charging at the waiting Akkad. His attack was parried, and Akkad's sword glanced off his shield.

"As unskilled as ever, Lagash," Akkad taunted, flexing his sword arm, "I should have just killed you when I had the chance." He moved lightning fast, taking Lagash by surprise and landing a few blows to his torso. None broke through his skin, but his leather armor was torn up. He wouldn't be able to sustain another attack like that. He pulled his shield closer, preparing for another attack from his adversary.

"Unskilled or not, I'll defeat you." he threatened as Akkad drew closer. The empire laughed.

"No, you won't." he said, "I am more powerful than you or any of your brothers, even with the disturbances in my empire. You cannot defeat me. You may try, but I have not come this far for nothing. Now come, Lagash. This will be your last battle." He pointed his sword at Lagash, and the nation roared in response, charging at Akkad and leaving his midriff exposed just as the empire had expected him to. He moved to make the final blow, bringing his sword to his waist and making to thrust it forward.

 _Thump!_

Lagash stopped in his tracks abruptly, staring at the feathered arrow that now sprouted from Akkad's neck. The empire's eyes were wide with shock. He dropped his blade, gasping for air. A sick gurgling was all that came forth, and he collapsed to the ground, blood pooling from his neck. After few moments, he was still. Lagash turned, desperately searching for the archer who had launched this fateful arrow. It did not take him long. Upon a rise over the city, a large force of men stood. At the forefront of the force stood a sturdily-built, wild-looking man. He wore naught but woolen cloaks, his skin bronzed and hair long and tied into a bun at the back of his head. In his hand was a bow, recently fired. For a moment, the battlefield was quiet. Then his hordes descended on the Sumerian forces like a pack of wolves, ripping at soldiers with short swords and battle axes.

The barbarians had arrived.

* * *

And thus the Akkadian Empire is brought to an end, not by the Sumerians who resisted it so, but by a random group of tribesmen from deep within the northern mountains known as the Gutium. With instability on the rise, Akkad found itself having to deal with Elam vying for independence and new dynasties emerging in Uruk and Lagash. This allowed for the Gutium, formerly subjugated by the Akkadians, to begin hit-and-run style attacks on Akkadian towns that simply added to the stress the empire was under. It wasn't too long before the cracks began to show, and that's when the Gutium struck, flooding into Akkad, taking advantage of the instability and ending the world's first true empire, replacing it with their own dynasty in Sumer. We'll see just how well that goes in the next chapter!

Feel free to leave corrections in the comments!


	13. Chaos

Chapter 13: Chaos

c. 2050 BC

 _ **Then Akkad was defeated and the Kingship was taken to the army of the Gutium.**_

Uruk awoke suddenly, breathing heavily. He looked around, searching for danger; but realized there was none to be found. He was in his city, safe from any harm. He got up, his eyes roving across the room until they came to rest on his sword and armor, discarded on the floor. It had been several years since Akkad had been killed, and yet Sumer's problems were not solved. The Gutium, as they had dubbed him, had attacked from the northeast, taking both sides completely off-guard, and imposed their own rule on Mesopotamia. Some of the westernmost cities in the empire, like Ashur and Mari, had managed to escape the deluge, but Uruk, Ur, and Lagash had all been soundly defeated and once again forced into submission. Even Elam had been reconquered by the mighty barbarians, and the result, quite frankly, had insofar been total chaos.

As Uruk stepped outside his temple, he prepared for the worst, as he now did on most days. Surprisingly, the city seemed at peace. The sun was rising, and its golden rays basked the mud-brick walls of the buildings in a warm glow. All was silent, and not even the cry of a rooster pierced the tranquil morning air. Uruk relaxed, taking in the beautiful morning. Perhaps today wouldn't be as bad as the past few years had been. Then he noticed.

"Why aren't the roosters crowing?" he asked himself, straightening. It was morning, for Ishtar's sake, there were _always_ roosters crowing when the sun rose. Was this some sort of omen? He raced down the streets of town towards the city limits, where the livestock was kept. Where were his animals? Had they been taken by some sort of beast? Was the world ending!? He finally approached his livestock pens, only to find none other than the Gutium himself standing at the gates. Uruk came to a screeching halt, eyeing his new overlord nervously.

"Um, hello, Mr. Gutium sir," he muttered, looking over the taller man's shoulder. No cows, goats, or chickens in the pens. And the gate was open? Why? He turned back to the Gutium.

"You wouldn't happen to know, um, where exactly all the animals are, would you?" he inquired. The tall man turned to him, confusion shining in his eyes like Uruk was asking some sort of idiotic question. He pointed out towards the open plains.

"Gone." he said simply, "I released them from their cages." Uruk stood silently, eyes following the Gutium's finger to the horizons and then slowly reaching back towards the man himself.

"You…. released them." he whispered, a tick developing in his right eye.

"Yes." the Gutium replied, "Released."

"But…" Uruk stuttered, still attempting to fully comprehend the situation, "…why? Why would you do that?" The Gutium once again looked upon Uruk with confusion, like he was some fort of foreign being.

"Animals need to be allowed to roam free to pasture," he explained, "so that they will produce good meat." Uruk's brought a hand to his temple, the reality of the situation finally dawning on him. His city's animals, his only food supply, was now roaming off in the plains An knows where. Today was going to be a very, very long day.

* * *

"Things certainly have changed, haven't they?"

Lagash looked up from his work: hammering out the dents that had developed in his shield after the intense battle with Akkad. He was working in a small stall set up at the edge of the city, where he had hoped he wouldn't be disturbed by government officials or citizens. Sure, he was glad he had regained his independence, but he had forgotten just how taxing managing one's own nation could be. Lagash was a warrior at heart, and the trappings of bureaucracy really didn't take to him. However, it seemed that his wish had been in vain, as an old man now stood at the front of his stall. Long, scraggly hair framed his face, and his eyes were dark brown and wizened. He looked at Lagash expectantly, but all the young nation could do was stare.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" he finally asked, wondering who exactly would confront him in such a cryptic manner. The old man laughed heartily, obviously amused by Lagash's confusion. After a short while he turned back to the nation, pulling out a faded sword from the ragged cloak he wore around his shoulders. He placed it on the table, and stared Lagash right in the eye.

"Four centuries ago, I fought you tooth and nail with this sword." he whispered, "Jog any memories?" Lagash examined the sword. It was an old one, for certain; he didn't know of any smith that would make them like this anymore. Engraved on the hilt was a name inscribed in cuneiform that looked just as old as the man said: four centuries. It took a little while for Lagash to decipher it, but when he did, his eyes widened in shock. He looked up at the old man.

"It can't be…" he muttered, disbelieving, "Larsa?" The old man chucked, taking the sword back and returning it to his cloak.

"The one and only!" he replied, spreading his arms in an attempt at grandeur that fell incredibly flat. Lagash stood, walking over the man and examining him thoroughly. After a few minutes, he decided that it was true. He scratched the back of his head, warily looking at his old acquaintance seemingly returned from the dead.

"It's been centuries," he said, "the last time I saw you was when Eannatum brought you under my control. That was years ago! Where have you been?" Larsa shook his head, chuckling.

"Still under your control, young man." he explained, "After you defeated me, I figured I'd just fade entirely as my city was assimilated into your empire; like Shuruppak and the others. But I guess I was always the most stubborn of the bunch, and when Akkad took over your grip on me loosened just enough for me to gain some semi-autonomy." Lagash laughed nervously, considering how far he had weakened if an old city-state like Larsa was gaining autonomy from his rule.

"So then…" he thought aloud, "why exactly are you here?" Larsa gave Lagash a hearty pat on the back and smiled devilishly.

"To discuss current events, boy-o" he replied, leaning up against Lagash's workbench, "These Gutium and their kings ruling over Sumer." Lagash winced in response. Most days he like to forget about the Gutium; pretend things were back to normal and they weren't under the rule of a bunch of northern barbarians. Seeing Lagash's discomfort, Larsa pushed on.

"It's embarrassing, having a bunch of nomads rule over our valley." he continued, "Trust me, kid, this would have never happened during the time before the flood. City-states back then were made of tougher stuff than you lot." Lagash's head whipped around, annoyance flashing in his eyes.

"You want to put that to the test, huh?" Larsa smiled, putting his hands up.

"I digress," he said, "but the point stands. You're just letting these barbarians walk all over you."

"It's not like I want them to!" Lagash growled.

"Then why don't you put a stop to it?" Larsa challenged, and Lagash slumped.

"The city's garrison and resources were exhausted in the effort against Akkad." he admitted, "Plus, the Gutium run Mesopotamia with about as much skill as a bunch of oxen, so there's been no allowance for recovery. I'm in no position to fight an army of nomads, and frankly there's not much I can do about it." Larsa huffed, turning away from Lagash.

"And here I thought you were a fighter." he snorted, "Giving up at the first sign of trouble. It shames me to think I ever lost to you." Lagash grabbed Larsa's arm, forcing him to turn.

"What, you think you have a better chance than me?" he asked, "I may be stuck in a hole, but I'm still twice the fighter you ever were." For a moment the two looked at each other, and then Larsa let out an apprehensive breath.

"If given the chance to overthrow the Gutium, would you take it?" he replied at last. Lagash's eyes widened.

"What do you mean?" he inquired curiously.

"I'm sure you've felt it; the rule of the Gutium is as unpopular as ever." he explained, "The people are ready to revolt. I'm thinking if a few of the stronger city-states get together, we can overthrow the Gutium. Re-instate the old ways; each city with its own independence. Get the Kingship back into the hands of someone who deserves it." Lagash didn't even contemplate the offer.

"When do we act?" he asked, and Larsa laughed.

"Whoa, slow it down, kid." he replied, "We're going to need more help. I only came to you because you've still technically got control over me. Anyone you think would join us?" Lagash smiled, knowing exactly who he was going to ask.

"I know a guy."

* * *

Ur sat in his study, going over the cuneiform tablets that littered his workspace. The room was dusty, dark, and seemed to be in a state of organized disarray with Ur at its center. One thousand years of managing a nation tends to wear on a location. The documents Ur was currently going over were several economic reports, none of them good. Since the Gutium had taken control of Sumer after that disastrous attack, the entire river valley's economic state had been in a state of depression. The Gutium refused to manage the economy the proper way, resulting in food shortages, recessions, and unemployment. Left unchecked, Ur knew these could become the very undoing of nations. He had watched for decades as Akkad had tirelessly toiled to prevent such issues from taking over Mesopotamia, and yet here they were. Barbarous tribes had turned the order of an empire into mess of chaos that threatened to unravel Sumer itself. If only his brothers had heeded his warning! He knew this would happen, he predicted it! Yet he had foolishly gone along with their schemes against the empire, for what? To reinstate the old ways? To avenge a brother dead for nearly a century now? Look where that had gotten them!

Ur swiped his hand across his desk, throwing the tablets to the floor. The brittle clay broke into a thousand shards, never to be reassembled. Ur himself stood up, contemplating his position. Though things looked bad, he had probably suffered the least of his fellow city-states from the rule of the Gutium. If anyone were to right things, it would have to be him. He needed to restore order. No, Sumer _needed him_ to restore order to it. He would have to take action, but what? Perhaps an assault on the Gutium. Maybe he could catch them by surprise and kill the king. He paced the room, thinking. It probably wouldn't work. He didn't have nearly enough manpower. But what if he allied with the other city-states. Maybe, together, they could overthrow the Gutium. Then perhaps—

He froze. In the corner of his eye, he could see something reflecting light. He rummaged through his things, eventually revealing a golden ceremonial dagger. Akkad's dagger, and Kish's before him. In it, Ur could see his reflection. He could see his wild, untamed hair and beard, his gaunt visage, and the wild look in his eyes. What was he doing? Everything thing he was thinking, everything he was considering had all been done before. He had already allied with his foolish brothers, and that had gotten him nowhere. They were obstacles in the path of order, stuck in the olden ways that were clearly inferior. He would get nowhere allying with them!

 _They were blind, just like Uruk and Lagash are._

In a flash, Akkad's words returned to him. His brothers were blind. No, they were no longer his brothers. They were obstacles in the path of order. They were obstructions. They were—

 _When you fight for a cause as righteous as mine, Ur, your enemies must die._

Enemies. Ur looked once again into the blade, sneering at the unkempt stranger in the gold. In a few swift motions, he shortened his hair and beard with the blade. He then tied them into simple braids, looking back into the dagger. Now he looked cleaner, more orderly. More dangerous. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he noted that he looked like Akkad. Somewhere even deeper, he wondered if that was a good thing.

He sheathed the blade, looking to the broken shards on the floor. He would not act rashly. He would bide his time, and before long the cracks in Sumer would widen into fault lines. He would plan, and soon, he would have all of Mesopotamia in the palm of his hand. He would restore order. And he would leave no enemies to oppose him.

* * *

"Alright, my divisions are ready for the assault. Is your force prepared?" Lagash approached Uruk, who was overlooking the field on which they would ambush the forces of the Gutium. The latter turned, smiling confidently.

"As ready as they'll ever be." he replied, "Utu-Hengal is at the front of the line. I haven't had a king so eager to reclaim the Kingship since Lugal-Zage-Si. It's refreshing. Feels like when the dust clears, things will finally be back to the way they should be. Kingship in my hands, and independence for Sumer." Lagash eyed his brother with amusement, thinking on how much he had changed. Before Akkad, he had been an exuberant, overconfident (and at times bumbling) city. Now, however, he had truly come into his own. It may have taken some hard lessons, but Uruk had finally matured into a fine leader; one finer, he would even say, than Kish himself. There was no one he trusted the Kingship with more. He chuckled, and Uruk looked over skeptically.

"Oh, you think the battle ahead is some laughing matter, do you brother?" he joked, causing Lagash to laugh.

"No, brother." he replied, "I was thinking about how, only a few centuries before now, I would have fought tooth and nail to take you down and gain suzerainty over Sumer. Now we stand side by side, ready to face the same foe. Things certainly have changed, haven't they?" Uruk nodded solemnly in return. He was about to reply when an arrow implanted itself in the ground before him. Lagash jumped back, looking to the battlefield. Somehow, without their noticing, it had already erupted into an orgy of carnage and bloodshed.

"The Gutium is early." he remarked, hefting his shield. Uruk drew his blade, smirking.

"Let's go bust some heads."

* * *

Uruk pushed through the barbarian forces, arrows lodged in his shoulders and legs like spines. He cut down man after man, pain caused by injury to his person but an afterthought in the heat of battle. Looking around, he finally spotted his target. In the center of a small group of barbarians laid the Gutium himself, bow in hand and quiver nearly empty. Smiling, Uruk pushed his way towards them, but found the barbarous line was too strong for him to break through. He grunted in frustration, cutting down soldier after soldier. One man fell, then another, then another, then another, until finally he was upon them.

"Gutium!" he bellowed, "You're reign over Sumer is over!" he brought his sword across his front in a deadly arc, eviscerating several spear-bearers and clearing the way to the center of the back. Panic in his eyes, the Gutium notched an arrow and fire, missing Uruk's head by mere inches. He fired another arrow, and another. Every time he missed his mark; arrow flying past Uruk or lodging in someplace unfatal. He notched another arrow, but before he could fire he felt the cold sting of bronze against his throat.

"Yield, barbarian." Uruk demanded, "I will let you leave, on the condition that you will never return." After a few tense seconds, the Gutium dropped his bow. The battle was won. One by one the barbarians retreated into the hills, returning the mountains from whence they came. The Dynasty of the Gutium was over, and as Heaven shined its light upon Uruk, he felt an exhilaration he had not felt in hundreds of years. The Kingship was his again.

"We won!" came the voice of Lagash, who approached from the side. Turning to him, Uruk smiled. Lagash was covered in blood, but Uruk wagered that most of it was not his. His brother was a true warrior. Tonight, they would celebrate. Tomorrow, they would liberate Sumer together. However, his jovial thoughts were interrupted by a familiar yet unwelcome voice.

"You did win." said Ur, "An excellent victory." Uruk turned towards his brother, surprise and wariness dancing in his eyes. The first thing he noticed was that Ur was not dressed for battle. No, he wore the long blue and gold cloak of royalty. His hair was done in intricate braids, and his eyes were cool and guarded. He looked the opposite of Uruk and Lagash, both dressed in simple armor and matted with blood.

"Ur," Uruk said, "have you come to share in our victory, perhaps?" Ur nodded, smiling.

"Of course!" he affirmed, "You have defeated the Gutium! Sumer is free! You will finally return our valley to the olden ways, correct?" Uruk smiled in return, approaching his brother. Perhaps Ur had come to apologize. He had finally come to his senses, and now things would truly return to the way they should be. He placed his arm on Ur's shoulder, giving it a small squeeze.

"Yes, brother," he replied, "the Kingship has returned to Uruk, and soon all of Sumer will return to the way things were before Akkad killed Kish. We will once again have our freedom." Uruk noticed something in Ur's eyes, a flash of emotion. Was it happiness? Relief? He couldn't tell.

"Good." Ur said, reaching into his cloak, "Now I can do this in confidence." There was a flash of metal, and then a deadly silence. A stiffening of muscles. The small, nearly unidentifiable noise of rending flesh.

Then Uruk fell to the ground, and Heaven's light shined upon his brother.

* * *

Okay, so first and foremost I must apologize for the lack of updates! Things were busy, and I needed some time to think about just how I was going to cover the ascension of Mesopotamia's next big empire. However, I promise from now on updates will be as consistent as possible: every Saturday, I will release 1 to 2 chapters. For the past chapters, I've been pumping out stuff that I pretty much already had completely conceptualized before I even began the story, but now that we've gone through two arcs, things are a bit more in that fuzzy development stage. As a result: weekly updates.

Okay, secondly: this story now has two reviews! I want to thank PenguinThePerson for their thoughtful message. I'm glad you like the whole "real history" aspect of this story, its something that's going to become an even bigger part of the dialogue as we get deeper in thanks to an increasing abundance in actual kept records. Thanks again, I hope you continue to enjoy the story!

Now, time to discuss the history! Or, more accurately, the lack thereof. The most important thing about the Gutium regarding historical record-keeping is that they were pastoral nomads. This means that they didn't keep records in the written word. They probably passed down their history orally, but their entire race is now extinct, so that means _nada_ in the "Gutium-sourced historical records" department. The only sources of history we have on the Gutium come from Sumerians, who (surprise surprise) generally had incredibly low opinions of these so-called barbarians who had taken over their lands. According to the Sumerian King List, in the Gutium "no kings were famous", indicating no Gutian ruler was particularly important. Apparently they had zero respect for the whole agriculture thing that river valley civilizations had spent hundreds of years perfecting, and just tended to let the cattle roam free. That would have been fine if all Sumerians were pastoral nomads. Unfortunately, they all lived in towns and were too lazy to follow their cows around. So, after fifty years of free-roaming cows and barbarian kings, Utu-Hengal of Uruk decided he'd had enough and drove the Gutium from Sumer once and for all, establishing the Fifth Dynasty of Uruk with hegemony over Sumer. He ruled for nine years, and then a young, enigmatic ruler by the name of Ur-Nammu took the reigns and established a new dynasty in Ur. His rule and his legacy will be discussed next time, on Hetalia: World Origins!

Questions and corrections in the comments!


	14. Elsewhere

Chapter 14: Elsewhere

Hedjet stood on the banks of the Nile, bow and arrow in hand. He wore a simple linen loincloth, and his dark-brown eyes stared intensely at the horizon. Behind him was an army; hundreds of Egyptians wielding long bronze scimitars, spears, and axes. He was near the city of Abydos, ancient home of pharaohs and gods, which was just a few kilometers north of Waset. This intermediate period had been detrimental for all parties involved, but Hedjet considered himself the least affected. Thanks to Intef, the city of Waset had become a thriving metropolitan center and he had become the most prosperous region in Kemet for the first time, well, ever. Why, then, was he about to launch this attack?

As he turned from the horizon, Hedjet pondered his sudden and newfound ambition. For as long as he could remember Deshret had always lorded over him; a state of affairs that left him weak and without much agency for his entire life. Deshret's defeat at the hands of Henen-Nesut had been welcome to say the least, and Hedjet had been able to exercise the autonomy that he had so long desired. Now, in his prosperity, he had discovered what, perhaps, had driven his brother to such ridiculous acts as building giant stone pyramids and sphinxes.

It was the power. The infinite possibility of being your own, independent nation. Hedjet had never experienced it before, but now that he knew it he couldn't imagine life without it. He could feel the potential of thousands running through his veins, and with every passing day it grew stronger. And now, as he stood on the banks of the Nile, he knew that if he could conquer Lower Kemet and reunite the land that he would never have to face subjugation again. Gritting his teeth, he notched an arrow and aimed for the ramparts of the city of Abydos, letting it loose with hardly a sound.

"Attack!" he yelled, and his soldiers rushed forward in a mass of metal and fury.

* * *

Years had passed, and Hedjet's kingdom had advanced far northward. Abydos had been but the first of many gains, and now he found himself at the very doorstep of the tenth dynasty kings of Henen-Nesut. This was it. The moment he had been longing for. With this one campaign, he would reunite Kemet under _his_ rule. He would rebuild the nation his brother had so carelessly destroyed with his frivolous spending and lax government control.

The shouts of his men brought his attention to the battlefield in front of him. A large force approached, though his was far larger. Hedjet strode forward to meet it, and soon saw Henen-Nesut himself at the front of the charge. Like Hedjet, he had come prepared for the battle, wielding a shield and shield and khopesh, a curved blade that was the standard among Egyptian foot soldiers. However, unlike Hedjet, Henen walked with a gait that betrayed weakness. His eyes, dull and tired, showed a man who had never really gained true control of the people who he governed.

"So, you have come to challenge my rule, older brother?" Henen spat, glaring at Hedjet with an impetuous air.

"The end of your dynasty is long overdue, Henen-Nesut." Hedjet replied, his hand drifting to his bow in case he would have need of it, "I've heard of how you run Lower Kemet. You are cruel and unforgiving. The people are unhappy, and few would support you. You will fall easily." Henen-Nesut laughed, put it sounded more scared than triumphant.

"Without allies? What of the nomarchs of Siut, whose lands currently lay in your wake?" he responded, a sly smile growing on his face, "All I need do is call, and they will crush you from behind!" Hedjet laughed, and Henen's smile faded.

"The nomarchs of Siut were hardly your allies, Nesut." He boasted, "I crushed them on my way north. You left them for years to suffer the brunt of my attacks, and they hardly were able to put up a fight." Henen looked shocked, but his surprise quickly gave way to weariness. His face, already gaunt, seemed to age fifty years in a few seconds. With no small effort, he hefted his weapons and entered a battle stance.

"I will not be subjugated." he muttered derisively, and Hedjet could not help but think how similar this young nation was to himself. They both had been put provincial rulers under Deshret's kingdom, and had gained their independence only a century and a half ago. In Henen-Nesut's eyes, he could see his own determination to remain independent. But even more so, he could see what would happen to him if he let his kingdom go awry as this nation had. Henen-Nesut would fail because of his bronze-fisted rule, and Deshret had failed because he had not been controlling enough. Hedjet would have to find a middle ground. Henen-Nesut charged at him with a fury that only desperate men know, but Hedjet simply pivoted out of the way of his arcing khopesh, notching an arrow in the process and aiming it at the back of the younger nation's head. He jerked the bow down in a quick motion, and let the arrow loose. With a sickening _thunk_ it penetrated Henen-Nesut's thigh. He screamed a curse and collapsed to the ground.

"I have won." Hedjet declared, "Your forces have been crippled. Your domain is now mine." Henen-Nesut glared at Hedjet but said nothing, acknowledging the truth of the statement.

It was 2055 BC, and Kemet was united.

* * *

In the city of Inbu-Hedj, on the weathered but still great white walls, stood Deshret. Many years had passed, and though Inbu-Hedj was still great, it was nowhere near the great prosperity it had known under Deshret's long-gone Old Kingdom. At this point, however, Deshret considered himself lucky to even be looking upon them again. He had only managed to survive Henen-Nesut's usurpation by the skin of his teeth; holding on because the people were just unhappy enough with the 9th and 10th dynasties' rule to truly accept their governance. However, he was weak and nearly faded. His power, seemingly like second-nature to him when he had possessed it, was now gone. However, in the past few days he had begun to regain some of his old strength. Perhaps, with time, he would be able to reclaim Kemet. He was jarred from his thoughts by a cough from behind him, and when he turned he was shocked to find Hedjet standing there. Deshret's eyes widened as he took in Hedjet's figure, their gaze finally locking on Pschent crown that graced his brother's head.

"How…?" he finally choked out, blue eyes sparkling with disbelief. Hedjet appeared to ignore this request, and stared at his brother emotionlessly.

"I have claimed Lower Kemet for myself, Deshret." he announced, "I am now ruler of the lands, and Pharaoh Mentuhotep II reigns supreme over this city. Do you recognize his rule?" Deshret let out an unintelligible noise, something between a yelp and a laugh. Hedjet had taken control of all of Kemet? What had happened to his brother who had been so uninterested in the politics of Lower Kemet? Why had he chosen to take control now? As he searched his own mind for answers, he found none. So he did the only thing he could do.

"Why?" he whispered, and Hedjet looked on, confused.

"Why what?" he asked, letting his guard down for a split second.

"Why would you take control of Kemet?" Deshret demanded, his voice growing stronger, "After all you claimed I did to suppress you, and with everything you hated about the extravagance of my kingdom, why would you strive to replace me of all things?" For a moment, Hedjet considered this.

"My mind has not been changed, Deshret." he replied, "You ruled Kemet poorly. You allowed Henen-Nesut to take control of Lower Kemet, and we all suffered because of it. However, I believe that I can succeed where you failed. I will be a better ruler than you ever were. Now, do you recognize my suzerainty over you?" Deshret thought for a moment.

"Yes." he finallya answered, "If only to see you fail."

* * *

The man and the boy had lived peacefully in the Aegean for centuries. Together, they had prospered. The man's trading routes now extended across the great sea; to the south where Kemet resided, to the east where there were traders on the coasts and nomads in the highlands, and more recently to the west where small towns had begun to dot the rocky landscape of Achaea. The man used the boy's islands to facilitate his great trading empire, and in return the boy looked to the man for protection. Together they lived in harmony.

But that had been centuries ago. Recently, the man hand grown busy with his trade, his prosperity leading the simple islanders to aspire to do greater things. Foundations were being laid for great structures that would sprawl across the coasts, showing to everyone the greatness of the man's civilization. The man grew stronger, his culture expanding and flowering into something entirely unique. There was pottery and writing, trade and commerce. Local lords had been replaced with men who called themselves kings, and the one in Knossos appeared to be the ruler of the kings. Crete had fully developed.

The same could not be said for the boy. His civilization had not grown in the past centuries; rather, it had shrunk. The days where he would carve statues out of marble on the shores of his islands were long past, and now the influence of the man seemed to dominate every facet of his life. He wasn't sure of his identity anymore, and he wasn't sure of what would become of him. It scared him. As time went on, the man had spent less and less time with the boy, leaving to go on voyages and establishing ties with other nations. The boy was left to himself, left to be assimilated.

However, there was one day when the boy finally found the man alone, overseeing the beginning of the first of the great palaces. He approached him from behind, desperate to have his questions answered. What was happening to him? What had become of his culture? He tugged desperately on the man's tunic, earning his attention. The man turned, eyebrows creased in annoyance, and looked at the boy.

"Who are you?" he asked.

The man dominated trade on the Aegean. He ruled a vast trading empire, and his culture spread across the many islands that dotted the sea. He had a vague remembrance of having a companion at one point, but that must have been so long ago. Now he ruled alone.

* * *

In a great valley to the east, people cried out in jubilation. The rainy season had come, but for the first time there would be no devastating flood. The great king Yu had finally tamed the waters of the Yellow River. It had taken him thirteen years to do it, but now that he had, he would finally establish his rule over the entire land of—

"China! That's me! The legendary and long-lived China! I am the Xia Dynasty, first and best of the dynasties!"

Um. Yes. That. The Xia Dynasty had come into existance, and it would rule over the Yellow River valley for the next—

"Why are you writing my story like that? I'm bored already! Here, I'll take over. China was the first and best civilization, established before all the other civilizations, even that stupid one in the Middle East. China invented the wheel, and everything else after that, and you have China to thank for everything in the entire world!"

I don't think that's how it goes…

"What do you know? You just search up your history on Wikipedia! China is the origin of all things!"

Hey! I check my sources for validity most of the time! It's not like China created the universe!

"Actually, in the beginning, there was only China—"

No. Stop. That is not real history.

"What do you mean? You're the one telling fake history here!"

I am the author of this story! I'll decide what is and isn't real history, thank you very much! Now let me narrate! Where was I? Oh, yes, _ahem—_

Yu the Great, tamer of the Yellow River, would be the first—

"Ruler of the entire world because the only world is China!"

You know what? I give up. The chapter's over. Shit happened in China. The end.

* * *

Okay, so we traveled to a lot of places for this chapter. Firstly, Egypt. Around 2055 BC, the king Mentuhotep II of Waset (Thebes) led his forces to the north and conquered the nomarchs of Henen-Nesut that had been ruling Lower Egypt for most of the First Intermediate Period. He defeated them and re-united Egypt, signaling the beginning of the Middle Kingdom of Egypt. Unlike the Old Kingdom, which was ruled from Inbu-Hedj (Memphis), this kingdom would be ruled from Waset and as a result Hedjet get's to be its representative, because Upper Egypt was decidedly the new center of power. Meanwhile, over in the Aegean, the Minoan Civilization has begun to mature. In a few more decades, the first archaeological evidence of the great Minoan palaces will be discovered. However, as a result of this, the neighboring Cycladic culture that had developed such close ties with the Minoans would be quickly assimilated, as the dominant Minoan culture would phase out their weaker and less developed one. Finally, over in China we have the first recorded dynasty, the Xia, appear. However, this dynasty has little to no archaeological evidence supporting its existence, and most historians surmise that it is just a construct made up by the later Zhou Dynasty to justify the Mandate of Heaven. Don't listen to him, guys. He's probably not even real.

"I am the most real and most powerful nation of them all!"

Shut up! Aaaaaaanyway, leave questions and corrections in the comments!

"You can't keep me hidden away forever!"


	15. Siege of Lagash

Chapter 15: Siege of Lagash

c. 2040 BC

There was a time, Lagash thought, when things had been right. When people were content with their lives, and when empires didn't seek to absorb everything around them. When your closest friends wouldn't turn to kill you for power. When war was a gentlemanly, traditional concept sanctioned by the gods, and not a desperate, bloody massacre for the sake of imperial ambitions. There had been a time when he had enjoyed life.

For the life of him he couldn't remember when.

He stood at the outskirts of his city, facing what he was certain would be his last sunrise. The morning light reflected off of the bronze of his helmet, creating a shine that obscured his dark eyes, which looked on to the horizon with no emotion whatsoever. News had come in all day of the rapid growth of Ur-Nammu's empire, which now seemed to take up all of Mesopotamia. Cities had fallen, one by one, until only Lagash remained. It was only a matter of time before Ur came to finish the job, and Lagash was determined to be ready. His army was constantly on guard, the city walls were manned day-in and day-out, and he had lookout parties scouring the surrounding plains, searching for any sign of impending attack. For the past few days, there had been nothing, as Lagash had expected. Ur was surely amassing a large force to take him on. However, today marked a month since the death of Uruk, and Lagash had a feeling there would be no more waiting. The end was nigh. An end that; after so many years of fighting, death, and loss; he was prepared to face. If he had done nothing else, Lagash had lived as a warrior. He was determined to die as one.

The sound of men running behind him brought the world around him back into focus. Men were scrambling upon the walls, pointing out to a massive army that approached from the distance. Within his city's walls, the army rushed to assemble in response to the invading empire. Lagash lifted his shield from where it lay on the ground next to him. He remembered a time when he had enjoyed battle. When he had fought skilled opponents like Umma, Kish, and Uruk for glory and honor. He remembered a time when the battle had seemed lost from him, when the Akkadian Empire had trapped Sumer in its death-grip. He remembered a time when battle had inspired rage in him like it never had before, directed against despicable foes like Akkad himself and the Gutium. Now, prepared to face down a brother turned conqueror, he searched himself for what battle was now. He searched for that fire within him that had always driven him towards the fields of blood and slaughter, the passion that gave him ability to strike down his foe with skill and valiance. He found nothing within himself.

Looking out onto the impending battle, he knew it would be his last.

* * *

Ur looked out upon the city of Lagash, the sunrise to his back. He was dressed in his imperial regalia, gold fittings adorning his simple cloak and leather bodice to separate him from the average soldier. Sword in hand and dagger strapped across his chest, hair and beard neatly trimmed and braided, he looked prepared to face the oncoming battle. In reality, he felt anything but prepared.

"Reports;" he commanded the soldier next to him, "how large is the opposing army? What are their defenses? Have they spotted us yet?"

"Yes, sir, I believe they have spotted us." the soldier replied, "Their defenses are well-laid, but their army is small compared to ours. Ur-Nammu has given orders to advance." Ur nodded absent-mindedly in response, thoughts wandering. He trusted Ur-Nammu, and knew that if anyone were to win this battle it would be him. However, he still dreaded the oncoming battle. The last of his brothers, Lagash, laid waiting within those walls. As much as he desperately hoped, Ur knew there was no way to convince him to join the Third Dynasty. Lagash was even more stubborn than Uruk had been in keeping to the ways of old, and Ur knew he would have to kill him in battle. Kill him liked he killed Uruk.

With the thought, Ur froze. His army was leaving him behind, marching on the city. He rushed to join them, as much as he loathed to inside. The oncoming battle was bringing back memories of that fateful day, when he had struck his own brother down. He could remember the mix of shock and betrayal that had colored Uruk's face, the feel of his hands tightening on Ur's arms as his body rejected the knife that had embedded itself in his gut. However, most of all he remembered those last few seconds before the life had faded from Uruk's eyes. The moments in which the betrayal had faded from his brother's face, and acceptance had replaced it. The moments in which Uruk had looked him the eye, straight into his very soul, and uttered his last words:

 _Do not become like him, brother. Save yourself._

Those words had lingered in his mind for the past month, echoing in his consciousness every time he made a decision. He saw Akkad, a conqueror now long dead, within himself whenever he consolidated his power. Every step he took seemed to be on the path the hated city-state had already tread nearly a century before. Where Akkad had slaughtered Kish, Ur had murdered Uruk. Just as Akkad had consolidated his power, Ur was about to his. But then there were those words. _Do not become like him._ Akkad had not been beloved by his subjects. They had hated him, overthrown him. Though the bureaucratic system he installed in Mesopotamia had reaped many benefits from the land, his bronze-fisted hold over the land and nation-slaughtering ways had earned him distrust and rebellion. Akkad may have envisioned a system in which all of Mesopotamia could be ruled as one, but he had been a flawed messenger. Ur would have to be better. He would take Akkad's system and improve it, lending prosperity and peace to his subjects rather than oppression and war. First, however, he knew he had to eliminate opposition to his rule, as much as he dreaded it. He had to kill Lagash. It was the only way to take control of his empire, to be sure he could steer it away from the tumulus course Akkad had taken.

Why, then, did those words still haunt him?

A sharp scream of pain jarred him into reality. Nearby, a solider had fallen. Looking around, he realized his forces had broken through the gates of Lagash. Dead bodies littered to ground around him, and upon close examination he could tell that very few of them were actually his soldiers. Ur-Nammu had made short work of the city, and it seemed the battle was reaching its conclusion. The sound of a shield slamming against the ground behind him caused Ur to whirl around, and it was then that he finally encountered Lagash.

"Brother." said the nation, leaning on his shield and offering up no emotion for Ur to latch onto, "It seems that victory is yours." It seemed so. Lagash was cut up all over, blood staining nearly every inch of his skin. The leather hide of his shield was torn, and some of the bronze fittings had fallen off. It looked as if he was only living by sheer force of will. The sight of it shook Ur to the bone.

"Lagash, it doesn't have to be like this." he pleaded, "Surrender. I can make you a part of the empire, a province that will know nothing but prosperity. We can live out the rest of our days in peace. All you need do is stop fighting." Lagash laughed, and Ur took a step back.

"We never did see things the same way, did we Ur?" Lagash muttered, approaching the conqueror slowly, "Two cities on opposite sides of the bay, rivals from the start. You always had a plan for the future, while I was always concerned with the here, the now. What I could grasp or kill with my own two hands." The two cities were face to face now, and now Ur could see Lagash's eyes shining with contempt and something else. Something dark, tragic, and horrifying that Ur had never known.

"Everything I could grasp is gone now, brother." he growled, "There is only one thing you can take from me. There can be no living in peace. Finish it." Lagash threw his shield aside, and as it clattered to the ground, Ur closed his eyes and drew his blade. By the time the shield finally lay still, its owner was dead on the ground beside it.

* * *

So, this is a fairly short chapter, for which I apologize. However, I felt like the death of Lagash merited its own chapter separate from the other campaigns of Ur-Nammu. Only one of our original city-states remains now!

As for the history, its pretty straightforward. When Ur-Nammu overthrew Utu-Hengal and gained control of most of Mesopotamia, only the city of Lagash was powerful enough to oppose him. As a result, he led a campaign against the city in 2040 BC and crushed its forces, ending its long existence as a prosperous maritime power on the Persian Gulf. With the city conquered, the Third Dynasty of Ur (or the Neo-Sumerian Empire, as historians dub it today) gained complete control over Sumer, mirroring the rise of the Akkadian Empire nearly a century earlier. However, this new empire will be different from the one of Akkad in several distinct ways that will be explored in the next chapter!

Questions and corrections in the comments!


End file.
